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JOHN     15  URNS. 


Lo\\'cr    IJrou^hton. 


EEMAINS   OP  THE 

popular  #oettp  of 
CnglanD ; 

COLLECTED  AND  EDITED, 


WITH    INTRODUCTIONS   AND 


BY  W.  CAEEW  HAZLITT, 


OF   THE   INNER   TEMPLE,    BARRISTER -AT-LAW. 


VOLUME  THE  FOURTH. 


LONDON: 

JOHN   RUSSELL    SMITH, 

SOHO    SQUARE. 
1866. 


NOTICE. 

SLIGHT  delay  has  occurred  in  the  appear 
ance  of  these  volumes.  It  was  originally 
intended  to  have  limited  the  work  to 
three ;  but  a  discovery  was  made  that  the  matter 
would  be  amply  sufficient  to  admit  the  addition  of  a 
fourth  volume. 

The  Editor  is  responsible  for  all  the  typographical 
arrangements. 

It  was  the  publisher's  original  plan  to  have  merely 
reissued  in  a  single  volume  Mr.  Utterson's  Select 
Pieces  of  Early  Popular  Poetry,  1817,  precisely  as 
they  stood.  The  present  Editor  has  to  answer  for  the 
extension  of  the  book  to  its  actual  proportions. 

Kensington,  April,  1866. 


CONTENTS. 

Page 
OHN  BON  and  Mast  Person        ...         1 


The  H?e  Way  to  the  Spyttel  Hous     .         .  17 

The  Payne  and  Sorowe  of  Evyll  Maryage    .  73 

The  Boke  of  Mayd  Emlyn     ......  81 

The  Schole-house  of  Women  ......  97 

Proude  Wyues  Pater  noster    .         .         .         .         .         .147 

A  merry  leste  of  a  Shrewde  and  curste  Wyfe  lapped  in 

Morrelles  skin        .......  179 

A  Treatyse  shewing  and  declaring  the  Pryde  and  Abuse 

of  Women  Now  <  Day  es  .....  227 

A  Glasse  to  Yiewe  the  Pride  of  Vaine  Glorious  Women  .  245 

A  Piece  of  Friar  Bacons  Brazen-heads  Prophesie  .  .  263 

The  King  and  a  poore  Northerne  Man  ....  290 
The  Birth,  Life,  Death,  Wil,  and  Epitaph  of  Jack  Puffe 

Gentleman     ........  311 

The  Welch  Traveller      .         .         .         .         .         .         .321 

ADDITIONAL  NOTES  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  355 


FACSIMILES. 


Page 
3 


RIGINAL  title-page  to  John  Bon  and  Mast 

Person 

Original   title-page   to   the    Schole-house  of 

Women  .     103 


Original  title-page  to  The  Proude  Wyues  Pater  noster      .     149 

Original  title-page  to  A  Treatise  shewing  and  declaring 

the  Pryde  and  Abuse  of  Women  Now  a  Dayes  .  .  229 

Original  title-page  to  Pleasant  Quippes  for  Upstart  Gen 
tlewomen  ........  247 

Original  title-page  to  A  Piece  of  Friar  Bacons  Brazen-heads 

Prophesie 265 

Original  title-page  to  The  King  and  a  Poore  Northerne  Man     29 1 

Original  title-page  to  The  Birth,  Life,  Death,  Wil,  and 

Epitaph  of  lack  Pvffe  Gentleman  .  .  .  313 

Original  title-page  to  The  Welch  Traveller     .         .         .       329 


3lofm  TBon  anti 


nPHIS  is  another  of  the  tracts  which  were  written  in  favour 
•*•  and  furtherance  of  the  Reformation.  Not  more  than  two 
or  three  copies  of  the  original  edition  have  been  seen.  It  was 
reprinted  in  facsimile  many  years  ago,  and  in  1852,  Mr.  W.  H. 
Black  edited  it  for  the  Percy  Society.  The  present  editor  has 
been  unwillingly  obliged  to  take  for  granted  the  accuracy  of  the 
latter  text,  as  he  has  not  been  able  to  obtain  access  to  a  copy  of 
Daye  and  Seres's  edition ;  according  to  Mr.  Black,  the  so-called 
facsimile  is  incorrect  in  several  places. 

A  production  of  this  character  would  necessarily  enjoy  great 
popularity  and  be  eagerly  bought  up;  and  the  scarcity  of  copies 
of  the  black-letter  impression  may  be  as  plausibly  attributed  to 
the  demand  for  them  at  the  time  of  publication  and  the  subse 
quent  neglect  with  which  they  met,  as  to  the  suppression  of  the 
piece  by  authority,  which  has  been  conjecturally  advanced  as 
the  reason. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  many  pamphlets,  both  prose  and 
poetical,  of  the  middle  of  the  16th  century,  remain  to  us  only  in 
a  single  exemplar,  and  in  most  cases  a  plea  of  authoritative  in 
terference  with  their  circulation  would  fall  to  the  ground.  If 
John  Bon  and  Mast  person  was  suppressed,  it  is  as  likely  aa  not 
•0  have  been  in  a  different  sense — manu  et  pedibus  vulgi. 
VOL.  IV.  B 


2     JOHN  BON  AND  MAST  PERSON. 

See  Herbert's  Ames,  fol.  619,  where  the  tract,  consisting  of 
four  leaves,  is  described  from  a  copy  in  Herbert's  own  possession. 
A  second  was  sold  among  Mr.  Richard  Forster's  books  in  1807, 
and  was  the  exemplar  from  which  the  facsimile  edition  was 
derived. 

See  Additional  Notes. 


ana 


jflflaat  person 


fc^*  ALASSE,  poore  fooles !  so  sore  ye  be  lade, 
No  marvel  it  is,  thoughe  your  shoulders  ake : 
For  ye  beare  a  great  God,  which  ye  yourselfes  made. 
Make  of  it  what  ye  wyl,  it  is  a  wafar  cake, 
And  betwen  two  irons  printed  it  is  and  bake. 
And  loke,  where  idolatrye  is,  Christe  wyl  not  be  there ; 
Wherfore,  ley  downe  your  burden,  an  idole  ye  do  beare. 
£3"  Alasse,  t>oore  fooles  ! 


AT,  John  Bon  !  good  morowe  to  the  ! 


Nowe  good  morowe,  mast  Parson,  so  mut  I  thee. 

Carson, 

What  meanest  thou,  John,  to  be  at  worke  so  sone  ? 


The  zoner  I  begyne,  the  zoner  shall  I  have  done  ; 
For  I  tende  to  warke  no  longer  then  none. 

Carson. 

Mary,  John,  for  that  God's  blessinge  on  thy  herte  ; 
For  surely  some  therbe  wyl  go  to  ploughe  an  carte, 
And  set  not  by  thys  holy  Corpus  Christi  even. 

fojtu 

They  aer  the  more  to  blame,  I  swere  by  saynt  Steven. 
But  tell  me,  mast  Parson,  one  thinge,  and  you  can  ;  10 
What  saynt  is  Copsi  Cursty,  a  man  or  a  woman  ? 


6  JOHN  BON  AND 

Carson. 

Why,  John,  knoweste  not  that  ?  I  tell  the  it  was  a  man. 
It  is  Christe  his  own  selfe,  and  to  morowe  is  hys  daye: 
We  beare  hym  in  prosession,  and  thereby  knowe  it  ye 
maye. 

fofm. 

I  knowe,  mast  Parson  ?  and  na,  by  my  faye : 
But  me  thinke  it  is  a  mad  thinge  that  ye  saye, 
That  it  should  be  a  man ;  howe  can  it  come  to  passe  ? 
Because  ye  maye  hym  beare  with  in  so  smal  a  glasse. 


Why,  neybor  John,  and  art  thou  nowe  there? 

No  we  I  maye  perceyve  ye  love  thys  newe  geare.        20 

Sotn. 

God's  forbod,  master,  I  should  be  of  that  facion ; 
I  question  wy  your  mashippe  in  waye  of  cumlication. 
A  playne  man,  ye  may  se,  wil  speake  as  cometh  to 

mind  ; 

Ye  muste  hold  us  ascused,  for  plowemen  be  but  blynd. 
I  am  an  elde  felowe  of  fifty  wynter  and  more, 
And  yet,  in  all  my  lyfe,  I  knewe  not  this  before. 

parson. 

No  dyd  ?  why  sayest  thou  so  ?  upon  thy  selfe  thou 
lyest : 


MAST  PERSON.  7 

Thou  haste  ever  knowen  the  sacramente  to  be  the  body 
of  Christ. 

fojm* 

Ye  syr,  ye  say  true ;  all  that  I  know  in  dede ; 
And  yet,  as  I  remember,  it  is  not  in  my  crede.  so 

But  as  for  Cropsy  Cursty  to  be  a  man  or  no, 
I  knewe  not  tyll  thys  day,  by  the  waye  my  soule 
shal  to. 

Carson* 

Why,  folishe  felowe,  I  tel  the  it  is  so ; 

For  it  was  so  determined  by  the  churche  longe  ago : 

It  is  both  the  sacramente  and  very  Christ  him  selfe. 


No  spleaser,  mast  Parson  ;  then  make  ye  Christe  an 

elfe, 
And  the  maddest  made  man  that  ever  body  sawe. 


What  ?  peace,  mad  man  !  thou  speakeste  lyke  a  dawe. 
It  is  not  possible  hys  manhode  for  to 


fofm. 

Why,  sir,  ye  tell  me  it  is  even  verye  he ;  10 

And  if  it  be  not  his  manhode,  his  godhed  it  must  be. 


JOHN  BON  AND 


I  tell  the,  none  of  both  ;  what  raeaneste  thou,  art  thou 
mad? 

fofjn* 

No,  nother  mad  nor  drunke,  but  to  learne  I  am  glade  : 
But  to  displease  your  mashippe  I  woulde  be  very  loth. 
Ye  graunt  me  here  playnly,  that  it  is  none  of  boeth  ; 
Then  it  is  but  a  cake,  but  I  pray  ye  be  not  wroth. 


Wroth,  quod  ha!    by  the  masse,  (thou   makest  me 

swere  an  othe,) 

I  hade  lever  wyth  a  docter  of  divinitie  to  reason, 
Then  with  a  stubble  cur  that  eateth  beanes  and  peason. 

Ifofw* 

I  crie  ye  mercye,  mast  Person  ;  pacience  for  a  season  ! 
In  all  thys  cumlicacion  is  nother  felony  nor  treason.  51 


No,  by  the  masse,  but  herest  thou  ?  it  is  playne  heresye. 


I  am  glade  it  chaunced  so,  theyr  was  no  witnes  by  ; 
And  if  ther  had  I  cared  not,  for  ye  spake  as  yl  as  I. 


MAST  PERSON.  9 

I  speake  but  as  I  harde  you  saye,  I  wot  not  what  ye 

thought  ; 
Ye  sayd  it  was  not  God,  nor  man,  and  made  it  worsse 

then  nought. 


I  ment  not  so  ;  thou  tokeste  me  wronge. 


A,  sir  !  ye  singe  another  songe  ; 

I  dare  not  reason  wyth  you  longe. 

I  se  well  nowe,  ye  have  a  knacke  so 

To  saye  a  thynge  and  then  go  backe. 

Carson. 

No,  John  ;  I  was  but  a  littyll  over  sene. 
But  thou  mentest  not  good  fayeth,  I  wene, 
In  all  thys  talke  that  was  us  betwene. 

Sfofw* 

I  ?  no,  trowe,  it  shannot  so  beene 

That  John  Bon  shall  an  heretike  be  calde  : 

Then  myght  he  laye  him  so  fowle  befalde. 

parson. 

But  nowe,  if  thou  wylt  marke  me  welle, 

From  begynnynge  to  endynge  I  wyl  the  tell 

Of  the  godly  service  that  shalbe  to  morowe  ;  70 

That,  or  I  have  done,  no  doubte  thou  wylt  sorowe 


10  JOHN  BON  AND 

To  here  that  suche  thynges  shulde  be  fordone. 
And  yet,  in  many  places,  they  have  begun 
To  take  a  waye  the  olde,  and  set  up  newe. 
Beleve  me,  John,  thys  tale  is  true. 

Sfofm. 

Go  to,  mast  Parson,  saye  on,  and  well  to  thryve  ; 
Ye  be  the  jolest  gemman1  that  ever  sawe  in  my  lyve. 


We  shal  firste  have  matins  :  is  it  not  a  godly  hereynge? 

Sfofm* 

Fie  !  yes  ;  me  thinke  'tis  a  shamefull  gay  chearynge  ; 
For  often  times  on  my  prayers  when  I  take  no  greate 
kepe,  so 

Ye  sing  so  arantly  well,  ye  make  me  fal  a  slepe. 

Carson* 

Then  have  we  prosession,  and  Christe  aboute  we  beare. 


That  is  a  poysone  holy  thinge,  for  God  himselfe  is  ther. 

parson* 

Than  comme  we  in,  and  redy  us  dresse, 
Full  solempnely  to  goo  to  messe. 

1  The  abbreviation  of  gentleman,  which  is  still  in  use  as  a 
vulgarism.  In  Udall's  Ralph  Royster  JJoyster  we  find  gemman, 
and  also  in  Doctoitr  Doubbk  Ale,  line  197. 


MAST  PERSON.  11 


Is  not  here  a  mischevous  thynge  ? 

The  messe  is  vengaunce  holye,  for  all  ther  sayeinge? 

Carson. 

Then  saye  we  Conjiteor  and  Miseriatur. 


Jeze  Lorde  !  'tis  abbominable  matter. 

Carson. 

And  then  we  stande  up  to  the  auter.  90 


Thys  geere  is  as  good  as  our  Ladies  Sawter. 

Carson* 

And  so  gose  fourth  wyth  the  other  dele, 
Tyll  we  have  rede  the  Pistell  and  Gospel!. 


fofm. 

That  is  good,  mast  Person,  I  knowe  ryght  well. 

parson. 

Is  that  good  ?  why,  what  sayste  thou  to  the  other  ? 


12  JOHN  BON  AND 

SMm- 

Mary,  horrible  good,  I  saye  none  other. 


So  is  all  the  messe,  I  dare  avow  this, 

As  good  in  every  poynte  as  Pistell  or  Gospel  is. 


The  fowle  evyU  it  is  ;  whoe  woulde  thynke  so  muche  ? 
In  fayeth  I  ever  thought  that  it  had  bene  no  suche.      10^ 


Then  have  we  the  Canon,  that  is  holyest. 


A  spightfuU  gay  thynge,  of  all  that  ever  I  wyst. 

Carson, 

Then  have  we  the  Memento,  even  before  the  sacringe. 


Ye  are  morenly  well  learned,  I  se  by  your  recknynge, 
That  ye  wyll  not  forget  such  an  elvyshe  thynge. 

Carson. 

And  after  that  we  consecrate  very  God  and  man ; 
And  turae  the  breade  to  fleshe  wyth  fyve  wordes  we 
can.         * 


MAST  PERSON.  13 


The  devell  ye  da  !  I  trowe.  Ther  is  pestilence  busines  ! 
Ye  are  much  bounde  to  God  for  suche  a  spittell  holines. 
A  galows  gay  gifte  !  wyth  fyve  wordes  alone  no 

To  make  boeth  God  and  man,  and  yet  wese  none  ! 
Ye  talke  so  unreasonably  well,  it  maketh  my  herte 

yerne. 
As  elde  a  felow  as  yche  am,  I  se  well  I  may  learne. 


Yea,  John  ;  and  then  wyth  wordes  holy  and  good, 
Even  by  and  by,  we  tourne  the  wyne  to  bloude. 


Lo  !  wyll  ye  see  ?     Lo  !  who  would  have  thought  it, 
That  ye  could  so  sone  from  wine  to  bloud  ha  brought  it  ? 
And  yet,  except  your  mouth  be  better  tasted  than  myne, 
I  can  not  fele  it  other  but  that  it  should  be  wyne. 
And  yet  I  wote  nere  a  cause  ther  maye  be  whye,      i2o 
Perchaunce,  ye  ha  dronke  bloude  ofter  then  ever  dyd  I. 


Truely,  John,  it  is  bloud,  though  it  be  wine  in  taste  ; 
As  soone  as  the  word  is  spoke,  the  wyne  is  gone  and 
past. 

Sojjn. 

A  sessions  on  it,  for  me,  wy  wyttes  are  me  benumme  ; 
For  I  can  not  study  where  the  wyne  shoulde  become. 


14  JOHN  BON  AND 


Study,  quod  ha  !  beware,  and  let  suche  matter  go  ; 
To  meddle  muche  wyth  thys,  may  brynge  ye  sone  to  wo. 


Yea  ;  but,  mast  Parson,  thyiike  ye  it  were  ryght, 
That,  if  I  desired  you  to  make  my  blake  oxe  whight, 
And  you  saye  it  is  done,  and  styl  is  blacke  in  syght, 
Ye  myght  me  deme  a  foole  for  to  beleve  so  lyght?   ISL 

Parson* 

I  marvell  muche  ye  wyll  reason  so  farre  : 
I  feare  if  ye  use  it,  it  wyll  ye  mar. 


No,  no,  sir  !  I  truste  of  that  I  wylbe  ware. 

I  pray  you  wyth  your  matter  agayne  fourth  to  fare. 

Carson. 

And  then  we  go  forth,  and  Christes  body  receyve  ; 
Evyn  the  very  same  that  Mary  dyd  conceyve. 


The  devill  it  is  !  ye  have  a  greate  grace 
To  eate  God  and  man  in  so  short  a  space. 

Carson. 

And  so  we  make  an  ende,  as  it  lieth  in  an  order.      HO 


MAST  PERSON.  15 

But  now  the  blissed  messe  is  hated  in  every  border, 
And  railed  on,  and  reviled,  with  wordes  most  blasphemous  ; 
But  I  trust  it  wylbe  better  with  the  help  of  Catechismus; 
For,  thoughe  it  came  forth  but  even  that  other  day, 
Yet  hath  it  tourned  many  to  ther  olde  waye  ; 
And  where  they  hated  messe,  and  had  it  in  disdayne, 
There  have  they  messe  and  matins  in  Latyne  tongue 

agayne. 

Ye,  even  in  London  selfe,  (John)  I  tel  the  troeth, 
They  be  ful  glade  and  mery  to  here  of  thys,  God  knoweth. 


By  my  trueth,  mast  Parson,  I  lyke  ful  wel  your  talke  : 
But'  masse  me  no  more  messinges.     The  right  way  wil 

I  walke.  151 

For  thoughe  I  have  no  learning,  yet  I  know  chese  from 

chalke, 
And  yche  can  perceive  your  juggling,  as  crafty  as  ye 

walke. 
But  leve  your  devilish  masse,  and  the  communion  to 

you  take, 
And  then  will  Christ  be  with  you,  even  for  his  promisse 


Carson. 

Why,  art  thou  suche  a  one,  and  kept  it  so  closse  ? 

Wei,  al  is  not  golde  that  hath  a  fayre  glosse. 

But  farewel,  John  Bon,  God  bringe  the  in  better  mind. 


I  thanke  you,  sir,  for  that  you  seme  verie  kynde  ; 


16    JOHN  EON  AND  MAST  PERSON. 

But  praye  not  so  for  me,  for  I  am  well  inoughe.        : 
Whistill,  boy !  drive  furth  !  God  spede  us  and  the 

plough ! 

Ha !  hrowne  done !  forth,  that  horson  crabbe  ! 
Reecomomyne,  garlde,  wyth,  haight,  blake  hab  ! 
Have  a  gayne,  bald  before,  hayght,  ree  who  ! 
Cherly,  boy,  cum  of,  that  whomwarde  we  may  goo. 


Imprmtrt  at  ILontom,  fig  Sjofm  39age,  an* 
agllgam  Sere*,  fctoeilmse  in 
Partsje,  at  tje  stgne  of  tfje 
mtion,  a  littel 

(Kontiutte. 


Otum  gratia  tt  ptibilegio  atr  imptimentium  solum. 


Cfce  JDpe  2Bap  to  t&e 
©ppttel 


HHHE  Hye  Way  to  the  Spyttel  Hous. 

[Woodcut  of  Copland,  the  Porter,  and  a  beggar.] 


If  COPLAND  AND  THE  PORTER. 

1f  Who  so  hath  lust,  or  wyll  leaue  his  thryft, 
And  wyll  fynd  no  better  way  nor  shyft, 

Come  this  bye  way,  here  to  seke  some  rest, 
For  it  is  ordeyned  for  eche  vnthrifty  gest. 

[Colophon]  Enprynted  at  London  in  the  Fletestrete  at  the  rose 
garland  by  Robert  Copland,    n.  d.  4to.  black  letter,  20  leaves.1 

The  following  production,  which  has  been  reprinted  by  Mr. 
Utterson  in  his  Select  Pieces  of  Early  Popular  Poetry,  1817,  can 
only  lay  claim  to  the  title  of  a  poem  from  being  in  the  metrical 
form.  But  it  is  valuable  and  curious,  nevertheless,  as  a  contri 
bution  to  our  knowledge  of  the  state  of  the  hospitals  and  of  the 


1  In  the  library  of  James  West,  Esq.  sold  in  1773,  there 
were  two  copies  of  this  tract. 

VOL.  IV.  C 


18  THE  EYE   WAT  TO 

poor  in  the  time  of  Henry  VIII,'  and  as  a  link  in  the  history  of 
mendicity.  Many  of  its  pages  might  be  read  side  by  side  with 
Mayhew's  "  London  Labour  and  the  London  Poor ;"  but  it  is  to 
be  remarked  that  the  "Hye  Way  to  the  Spyttel  Hous"  has  in 
view  rather  the  exposure  of  the  frauds  of  beggars  and  alms- 
people  than  the  illustration  of  their  pursuits  and  struggles  in 
search  of  a  livelihood.  As  a  picture,  presumed  to  be  faithfully 
drawn,  of  the  lower  forms  of  human  life  three  hundred  years 
ago,  the  "  Hye  Way  to  the  Spyttel  Hous"  possesses  unquestion 
able  interest  and  importance,  though  its  literary  merit  may  be 
of  an  infinitesimal  kind,  and  Ritson  may  be  thought  to  have 
gone  quite  far  enough  in  characterizing  it  as  "  a  dialogue  of 
some  humour  and  merit."  2 

Robert  Copland,  the  "  compiler  and  printer  of  this  boke,"  as 
he  styles  himself  in  the  Prologue,  was  an  apprentice  of  Wynkyn 
de  Worde,  and  probably  the  father  or  brother  of  William  Cop 
land,3  a  printer  of  considerable  note.  Like  his  contemporary 
Crowley,  who  enjoys  the  meritorious  distinction  of  having  been 
the  first  to  commit  to  the  press  the  Vision  of  Piers  Ploughman, 
Robert  Copland  probably  wrote  many  pieces  of  a  satirical  charac 
ter  without  putting  his  name  to  them  which,  like  the  Hye  Way 
to  the  Spyttel  Hous,  he  also  printed. 

We  may  perhaps  be  allowed  to  doubt,  whether  Robert  Copland 


1  The  statute  22  Henry  VIII,  was  renewed  and  confirmed, 
with  some  additions,  &c.  by  14  and  18  Eliz.  But  practically, 
the  law  in  this  respect  was  of  very  slight  force,  and  the  evil 
against  which  it  sought  to  pro  vide  a  remedy  remained  as  serious 
as  ever.  In  his  "Treatise  against  Dicing,"  &c.  1577,  North- 
brooke  bitterly  complains  of  the  inoperative  character  of  the 
acts  14  and  18  Eliz. 

8  Bibliographia  Poetica,  art.  Copland.  Ritson,  however,  ap 
pears,  in  this  case,  merely  to  have  followed  Herbert  who,  in  his 
edition  of  Ames,  has  given  an  account  of  the  tract  from  a  copy 
in  his  own  possession. 

8  Weever,  in  his  Ancient  Funerall  Monuments,  1631,  quoting 
Stow,  mentions  that  "  one  William  Copeland,  Churchwarden  [of 
St.  Mary  Bow]  gaue  the  great  Bell  which  is  rung  nightly  at  nine 
oftheclocke[An.  1515]." 


THE  SPYTTEL   HO  US.  19 

had  an  independent  press,  and  whether  he  was  not,  in  fact,  a 
sort  of  amateur  in  the  art,  employing  his  brother's  press  when 
ever  he  required  it.  That  this  practice  was  occasionally  followed, 
is  shown  by  the  "  Esclaircissement  de  la  Langue  Francoise,"  by 
John  Palsgrave,  1530,  folio,  which  was  printed  by  John  Hawkins 
at  the  press  of  Richard  Pynson.  It  is  to  be  presumed  that  the 
latter  permitted  Hawkins  to  use  his  types  on  this  particular  oc 
casion,  or  it  may  be  that  Hawkins  simply  superintended  the 
passage  of  the  book  through  the  press.  At  the  same  time,  seve 
ral  publications  with  Robert  Copland's  name  as  the  printer 
are  known :  yet  in  most  cases  he  describes  himself  as  prac 
tising  the  profession  at  the  sign  of  the  Rose  Garland,  which 
was  also  William's  place  of  business.  Prefixed  to  Chaucer's 
Assemble  of  foules,  1 530,  is  an  address  in  verse  by  "  Roberte 
Coplande,  boke-prynter  to  new-fanglers,"  in  four  eight-line 
stanzas;  and,  at  the  end,  his  Enemy,  in  three  more.  And 
annexed  to  Wynkyn  de  Worde's  edition  of  The  Castell  of 
Pleasure,  a  poem,  by  Nevil,  Lord  Latimer,  is  the  Envoy  de 
Robert  Coplande  Vymprimeur,  seeming  to  show  that  he  was  ac 
customed  to  use  De  Worde's  press,  somewhat  in  the  same  man 
ner  as  he  subsequently  did  that  of  William  Copland,  with  this 
difference,  that  whereas  he  put  his  own  name  in  the  colophon, 
when  he  had  removed  to  the  Rose  Garland,  his  typographical 
labours  at  W.  de  Worde's  office  bore  the  name  and  device  of  the 
latter,  Copland  merely  attaching  his  name  to  the  Envoy  or  to 
the  Prologue. 

It  is  evident  that  this  treatise  was  written  after  the  22nd 
Hen.  VIII  (1530-1),  which  is  referred  to  by  Copland,  the 
writer,  in  the  course  of  his  dialogue,  real  or  fictitious,  with  the 
Porter.  St.  Bartholomew's  Hospital l  and  Priory  were  founded, 
according  to  the  well-known  tradition,  by  the  famous  jester 
Rahere.  Deloney,  in  his  Pleasant  History  of  Thomas  of  Reading, 
circa  1597  (ed.  Thorns,  p.  16)  says  of  him: — "This  Reior  was 
the  most  skilfullest  Musicion  that  liued  at  that  time  [reign  of 


1  Hence  the  surrounding  fields  acquired  the  name  of  Spital 
[i.e.  Hospital]  fields;  according  to  Weever  (Funerall  Monu 
ments,  1631,  p.  515),  they  were  previously  known  as  Lolesworth 
Fields. 


20  THE  HYE    WAY  TO 

Hen.  VIII],  whose  wealth  was  very  great,  so  that  all  the  In 
struments  whereon  his  seruants  plaid,  were  richly  garnished 
with  studdes  of  siluer,  and  some  gold ;  the  bowes  belonging  to 
their  Violines  were  all  likewise  of  pure  siluer.  He  was  also  for 
his  wisedome  called  to  great  Office  in  the  City,  who  also  builded 
(at  his  owne  cost)  the  Priory  and  Hospital  of  S.  Bartholomew 
in  Smithfield." 

A  certain  light  is  thrown  on  the  state  of  the  poor  in  the  time  of 
Henry  VIII,  by  a  curious  tract  entitled  "  A  Supplicacyon  for  the 
Beggers  [i.  e.  the  Begging  or  Mendicant  Friars],"  which  ap 
peared  either  in  1524  or  1525,  and  the  authorship  of  which 
there  is  ground  for  ascribing  to  Simon  Fish,  a  zealot  of  the 
period. 

Burton,  in  his  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  1621,  draws  a  sorry 
picture  of  the  state  of  England  in  his  day.  "Amongst  our 
towns,"  he  says,  "  there  is  only  London  that  bears  the  face  of  a 
city — epitome  Britannia,  a  famous  emporium,  second  to  none  be 
yond  seas,  a  noble  mart :  but  sola  crescit,  decrescentibus  aliis ;  and 
yet,  in  my  slender  judgment,  defective  in  many  things.  The 
rest  (some  few  excepted)  are  in  mean  estate,  ruinous  most  part, 
poor  and/M/Z  of  beggars,  by  reason  of  their  decayed  trades,  neg 
lected  or  bad  policy,  idleness  of  their  inhabitants  and  riot, 
which  had  rather  beg  or  loyter,  and  be  ready  to  starve,  than 
work." 

Besides  the  present  piece,  he  is  known  to  have  written  or 
translated : — 

Jyl  of  Breyntfords  testament  newly  compiled.  [Col.]  Im 
printed  at  London  by  me  William  Copland.  Black  letter,  8 
leaves,  4to. 

Jyl  of  Braintfords  Testament.     Newly  compiled.    [Col.]    Im- 
prented  at  London  in  Lothbury  ouer  agaynst  Saint  Margarytes 
church  by  me  Wyllyam  Copland.     Black  letter,  8  leaves,  4to. 
. ' .  A  different  edition  of  the  preceding. 

Kynge  Appolyue  of  Thyre.  A  romance.  [Translated  from 
the  French  by  R.  C.,  who  added  an  original  prologue.]  W.  de 
Worde,  1510,  4to.  See  Herbert,  fol.  149. 

The  Knight  of  the  Swanne.     Here  Beginneth  the  History  of 


THE  SPYTTEL   HO  US.  21 

the  noble  Helyas  &c.     [Col.]     Imprinted  at  London  by  me 

Wyllyam  Copland.     K  d.    4to.  black  letter. 

.  • .    A  translation  from  the  French,  made  prior  to  1521. 
The  Complayrite  of  them  that  ben  to  late  maryed.     W.  de 

Worde,  n.  d.  4to.     8  leaves,  black  letter. 

.  * .  He  was  probably  the  author  or  rather  translator  of  a 
second  tract  of  a  similar  character :  "  A  complaynt  of  them  that 
be  to  soone  maryed."  W.  de  Worde,  1535,  4to,  13  leaves, 
black  letter,  and  of  the  "  Payne  and  Sorowe  of  Euyll  Mary- 
age,"  W.  de  Worde,  n.  d.  4to.  4  leaves,  black  letter. 

The  Passion  of  Christe,  with  many  deuout  contemplacions, 
examples,  and  exposicyons  of  the  same.  W.  de  Worde,  1521, 
4to;  and  W.  de  Worde,  1532,  4to.  In  verse  and  prose.  With 
woodcuts.  This  is  said  to  be  a  translation  from  the  French  by 
Andrew  Chertsey  in  Lowndes's  Manual,  but  the  last  leaf  con 
tains  the  "  Inuocation  of  Roberte  Coplande,"  in  three  octave 
stanzas.  Perhaps  Copland  composed  the  metrical  descriptions 
which  precede  each  of  the  twenty-four  parts,  into  which  the  work 
is  divided. 

The  Life  of  Ipomydon.  Enprynted  at  London  in  the  Flete- 
strete  at  the  sygne  of  the  Sonne  by  Wynkyn  de  Worde,  n.  d. 
4to.  :— 

"  L'enuoye  of  Robert  C.  the  prynter. 

Go  lytell  Jest  vndepured  of  speche 

Vnto  thy  reders  and  alway  me  excuse 

To  take  thy  mater  I  hertly  them  beseche, 

Though  thou  rudely  no  other  termes  vse. 

This  is  thy  copy,  thou  can  it  not  refuse 

Syth  that  no  writer  wolde  take  the  to  amende 

In  this  my  laboure  I  myght  it  not  entende." 

R.  Copland  translated  and  printed  "  The  Rutter  of  the  See, 
with  the  Hauores,  Rodes,  Soundynges,  Kennynges,  Wyndes, 
Flodes,  and  Ebbes,  Daungers,  and  Coastes  of  Dyuers  Regyons 
&c,"  Lond.  1528,  16mo.  which  went  through  several  impres 
sions.  Copland  affixed  a  Prologue  of  his  own. 


22  THE  EYE   WAY  TO 

He  also  contributed  the  Petycyon  and  Envoye  to  the  Myrrour 
of  the  Chyrche,  1521 ;  and  he  has  verses  before  the  Secrets  of 
Aristotyle,  1528 ;  and  W.  Walter's  Litell  contrauers  dyalogue 
betwene  Loue  and  Councell  Sfc.  W.  de  Worde,  n.  d.  The  Spectacle 
of  Lovers,  by  the  latter  writer,  contains  also  at  the  close, 
"  L'Envoy  de  Robert  Coplaude." l 

See  Graunt's  Observations  on  the  Bills  of  Mortality,  ed. 
1665,  ch.  3. 


C  Prologue  of  Eoftert 
Copland, 

IF  COPYLEH  AND  PBYNTEB  OF  THIS  BOKE. 

JO  dyspyse  poore  falke  is  not  my  appetite, 
Nor  suche  as  lyue  of  veray  alraes  dede, 
But  myn  intent  is  onely  for  to  wryte 
The  mysery  of  suche  as  lyue  in  nede, 
And  all  theyr  lyfe  in  ydlenesse  dooth  lede, 
Wherby  dooth  sue2  suche  incouenyence, 

That  they  must  ende  in  meschaunt  indygence. 

f[  Chryst  in  this  worlde  ryght  pouerte  dyd  sue, 
Gyuyng  vs  example  to  folowe  that  degre, 

1  See  Dibdin's  Ames,  ii.  278. 


THE  SPYTTEL  HO  US.  23 

Saying :  beati  pauperes  spiritu  ; l  10 

Beati  mites,  beati  mundo  corde  : 
Blyssed  be  they,  that  poore  in  spyryte  be, 
And  ben  clene  in  herte,  and  meke  therwith  al 
For  they  shall  possede  the  realm  celestyall. 

|[  They  be  not  poore  that  haue  necessyte, 
Except  therwith  they  ben  ryght  well  content ; 
Nor  they  be  not  ryche  that  haue  grete  plente, 
If  that  they  thynke  that  they  haue  competent, 
And  euer  pleased  with  that  God  hath  them  sent, 
For  surely  it  is  our  Lordes  ordynaunce,  20 

That  eche  sholde  be  pleased  with  suffysaunce. 

If  That  man,  that  hath  more  than  suffycyent, 
With  goodes  at  wyll,  and  dayly  doth  encrease, 
And  euer  is  bare,  hungry  and  indygent, 
Scrapynge  and  snudgynge  without  ony  cease ; 
Euer  coueytynge,  the  mynde  hath  no  pease 
But  lyueth  by  rapyne  and  usury, 

And  careth  not  how  he  cometh  therby. 

|[  Eke  in  dystres  doynge  no  benyfyte, 

Letyng  the  poore  dye  in  great  mysery,  30 

His  neyghbour  in  pryson  dooth  not  vysyte, 

Nor  yet  forgyue  small  parcel  of  duety, 

Wery  traueylers  in  the  stretes  let  ly, 

The  deed  bodyes  without  ony  buryall ; 

His  goodes  his  god  a  man"  may  full  well  call. 

1  St.  Matt.  v.  3,  5,  8. 


24  THE  HYE   WAY  TO 

C  Of  suche  ryche  men  recyteth  the  gospell, 
Makyng  lykenes  of  impossybylyte ; 
Saying :  that  more  easyly  a  great  camell 
May  passe  and  go  through  a  nedyls  eye, 
Than  a  ryche  man  in  heuen  for  to  be :  40 

For  who  so  mys  useth  that  God  hath  hym  sent, 
With  cursed  Diues  in  hell  shalbe  brent.1 

|[  These  trewat2  beggers  begging  fro  place  to  place, 
Nor  yet  these  nedy  of  all  maner  facyon; 
These  apprentyces  that  do  rene  from  all  grace ; 
These  hyred  seruaunts  that  kepe  no  condycion, 
Nor  all  that  feyne  parfyt  deuocyon, 
Nor  many  other  lyuyng  in  nede  couert,s 

Though  they  lacke  good,  be  not  poore  of  hert. 

|[  Se  ye  not  dayly  of  all  maner  estate,  so 

How,  in  the  lawe,  they  trauers4  and  coniect.5 
How  neyghbours  do  fall  at  anger  and  debate  ? 
Twene  man  [and]  wyfe  eke  the  lyfe  imperfect : 


1  i.  e.  burnt.  2  i.  e.  truant. 

3  i.  e.  in  secret  want. 

4  To  travers  here  signifies  to  cross  in  argument  in  the  way 
practised  by  the  opposite  counsel  in  a  legal  suit  or  trial.     But 
the  word  is  used  in   a  variety  of  meanings.     Shakespeare 
employs  it  to  express  a  movement  in  fencing,  apparently  the 
crossing  of  the  line  of  an  adversary's  weapon,  as  distinguished 
from  fencing  or  thrusting.     See  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor, 
act  ii.  sc.  3.     In  the  Marchandes  Tale,  Chaucer  has  travers  in 
the  sense  of  a  bed-curtain,  i.  e.  one  which  might  be  drawn  across 
the  bed. 

5  Conjecture,  or  offer  conjectural  propositions. 


THE  SPTTTEL  HOUS.  25 

The  father  and  chyld  from  quyetnes  abiect, 
And  all  for  good  they  make  eche  other  smart, 
Which  is  a  sygne  they  be  not  poore  of  hart. 

|[  If  that  our  prynce  do  aske  a  subsedy, 
From  our  ennemyes  vs  to  defend, 
Or  yf  our  credytours  demaund  theyr  duety,1 
To  confesse  pouerte  than  we  do  pretend.  eo 

But  yf  our  neyghbour  in  ought  vs  offend, 
Than  we  fynd  money  to  play  ouerthwart, 
Which  is  a  token  we  be  not  poore  at  hart. 

f[  How  many  poore  that  haue  lytell  in  store, 
Are2  content  with  their3  small  substaunce? 
But  euer  they  grudge,  and  wysh  for  more, 
To  be  promoted  and  haue  furtheraunce. 
The  very  beggers,  for  theyr  pytaunce, 
From  bag  and  staffe  are  lothe  for  to  depart, 

Which  is  a  token  they  be  not  poore  at  hart.      70 

|[  Of  these  two  estates  there  be  four  degrees  : 
A  ryche  ryche,  a  poore  poore,  a  ryche  poore  also, 
A  poore  ryche  in  all  necessytees. 
The  two  can  agre,  but  the  other  no, 
A  proud  hert,  a  beggers  purs  therto, 
The  ryche  purs  and  the  poore  spyryt 
May  well  agre,  and  be  in  one  parfyt. 

1  i.  e.  debt.  2  Old  ed.  has  is.          3  Old  ed.  has  his. 


26  THE  HYE  WAY  TO 

C  <£:rf)ortacton  of  tje  (ftompglet. 

|[  I  pray  all  you,  which  haue  ynough  with  grace, 

For  the  loue  of  God  to  do  your  charyte, 

And  fro  the  poore  neuer  turne  your  face,  so 

For  Chryst  sayth  :  what  euer  that  he  be 

That  to  the  least  of  myne  dooth  in  the  name  of  me, 

Vnto  myself  I  do  accept  the  dede, 

And  for  rewarde  my  realme  they  shall  possede. 


ffiere  fieggnnetj  tf)e  casualgte 
<&C  tje  enttaima  in  to 


wryte  of  Sol  in  his  exaltacyon, 

Of  his  solstyce  or  declynacyon, 
Or  in  what  sygne,  planet,  or  degre, 
As  he  in  course  is  vsed  for  to  be ; 
Scorpio,  pisces  or  sagyttary ; 

Or  whan  the  moone  her  way  dooth  contrary,  90 
Or  her  eclypse,  her  wayne,  or  yet  her  full, 

It  were  but  lost  for  blockysh  braynes  dull ; 
But  playnly  to  say,  even  as  the  tyme  was, 
About  a  fourtenyght  after  Halowmas,1 

1  Hallowmass,  or  All  Saints'  Day  (November  1st),  was  the 
beggars'  jubilee.  On  that  day  it  was  the  ancient  custom  to  go 
tovling,  or  going  round  to  beg  for  money  to  fast  for  the  souls  of 


THE  SPY T TEL  HO  US.  27 

I  chaunced  to  come  by  a  certayn  spyttell,1 

Where  I  thought  best  to  tary  a  lyttell, 
And  vnder  the  porche  for  to  take  socour,2 

To  abyde  the  passyng  of  a  stormy  shour ; 
For  it  had  snowen,  and  frosen  very  strong, 

With  great  ysesycles  on  the  eues3  long,  100 

The  sharp  north  wynd  hurled  bytterly, 

And  with  black  cloudes  darked  was  the  sky. 
Lyke  as,  in  wenter,  some  days  be  naturall 

With  frost,  and  rayne,  and  stormes  ouer  all. 
So  styll  I  stode ;  as  chaunced  to  be, 

The  porter  of  the  hous  stode  also  by  me, 
With  whome  I  reasoned  of  many  dyuers  thynges 

Touchyng  the  cours  of  all  suche  whetherynges : 
And  as  we  talked  ther  gathered  at  the  gate 

People,  as  me  thought,  of  very  poore  estate,          no 


the  donors  or  their  relatives.  In  the  "  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona,"  Shakespeare  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Speed  the  ex 
pression  "  to  speak  puling,  like  a  beggar  at  Hallowmas,"  and  the 
dramatist  had,  no  doubt,  this  usage  at  the  moment  in  his  recol 
lection.  What  Copland's  special  reason  was  for  selecting 
"  about  a  fortnight  after  Hallowmas  "  as  the  point  of  time  when 
his  interview  with  the  porter  took  place,  it  is  by  no  means  easy 
to  tell. 

Scot,  in  his  Discovery  of  Witchcraft,  1584,  ed.  1651,  p.  314, 
alludes  to  the  practice  of  beggars  fasting  for  the  souls  of  the 
departed ;  and  a  good  account  of  the  matter  may  be  found  in 
Brand's  Observations  on  Popular  Antiquities,  ed.  1853,  i.  393-4; 
but  the  custom  of  fasting  for  souls  seems  to  have  been  overlooked 
by  Brand  and  his  editors. 

1  i.  e.  hospital.  Pepys  used  this  form  of  the  word.  See  Diary, 
under  date  of  9th  Feb.  1659-60. 

2  Shelter.  3  Eaves. 


28  THE  EYE   WAY  TO 

With  bag  and  staf,  both  croked,  lame  and  blynde, 

Scabby  and  scuruy,  pocke  eaten  flesh  and  rynde,1 
Lowsy  and  scalde,  and  pylled2  lyke  as  apes, 

With  scantly  a  rag  for  to  couer  theyr  shapes,3 
Brechles,  bare  foted,  all  stynkyng  with  dyrt, 

With  M.  of  tatters  drabblyng  to  the  skyrt, 
Boyes,  gyrles  and  luskysh4  strong  knaues, 

Dydderyng  and  dadderyng,  leaning  on  their  staues, 
Saying :  good  mayster,  for  your  moders  blessyng, 

Gyue  vs  a  halfpeny  toward  our  lodgyng.  120 

The  porter  sayd :  what  nede  you  to  craue, 

That  in  the  spyttell  shall  your  lodgyng  haue  ? 
Ye  shah"  be  entreated  as  ye  ought  to  be : 

For  I  am  charged  that  dayly  to  se. 
The  systers  shall  do  theyr  obseruaunce, 

As  of  the  hous  is  the  due  ordynaunce. 


1  Skin. 

2  Pilled  is  an  old  form  of  pealed.     It  here  implies  [with  the 
hair]  pealed  off. 

"  Whilst  snarling  gusts  nibble  the  juiceless  leaves 
From  the  naked  shuddering  branch,  and  pills  the  skin 
From  off  the  soft  and  delicate  aspects." 

Marston's  Antonio's  Revenge,  the  Second  Part  of 
Antonio  and  Mellida —  The  Prologue. 

"  As  pyled  as  an  ape  was  his  skulle, 
He  was  a  market  beter  at  the  fulle." 

The  Miller  of  Trumpington  (Wright's 
Anecdota  Literaria,  1844,  p.  24). 

3  L  e.  forms. 

*  Lazy.  It  is  the  adjective  form  of  lusk,  a  lazy  fellow,  a 
lubber.  See  Scoggin's  Jests,  ed.  Hazlitt,  p.  64  (Old  English  Jest 
Books,  ii.  5). 


THE  SPYTTEL   HOUS.  29 

11  Copland.  Porter,  sayd  I,  Gods  blyssyng  and  our  lady 

Haue  ye  for  spekyng  so  curteysly 
To  these  poore  falke,  and  God  his  soule  pardon  J 

That  for  theyr  sake  made  this  foundacyon  :  130 

But  syr,  I  pray  you,  do  ye  lodge  them  all, 

That  do  aske  lodgyng  in  this  hospytall  ? 


IF  Porter. ?  Forsoth  yea,  we  do  all  suche  folke  in  take, 
That  do  aske  lodgyng  for  our  lordes  sake ; 

And  in  dede  it  is  our  custome  and  vse 

Sometyme  to  take  in,  and  some  to  refuse.3 

11  Copland.  Than  is  it  comyn  to  euery  wyght, 

How  they  lyue  all  day,  to  lye  here  at  nyght  ? 
As  losels,  myghty  beggers  and  vacabonds, 

And  trewands  that  walke  ouer  the  londs,  HO 

Mychers,  hedge-crepers,4  fylloks,  and  luskes, 

That  all  the  somer  kepe  dyches  and  buskes, 
Lowtryng,  and  wandryng  fro  place  to  place, 

And  wyll  not  worke  but  the  bypaths  trace, 
And  lyue  with  haws,  and  hunt  the  blakbery, 

And  with  hedge  brekyng  make  themself  mery ; 


1  The  celebrated  Rahere.     See  the  first  chapter  of  Morley's 
Bartholomew  Fair. 

2  In  the  Order  of  the  Hospitalls  of  K.  Henry  the  VIII.  and  K. 
Edward  the  Vlth,  1557,  12mo,  "  The  Porter"  is  expressly  men 
tioned  as  one  of  the  officers  of  St.  Bartholomew's. 

3  See  the  section  touching  the  "  admitting  of  children  and 
the  graunting  of  Penaunces,"  in  the  Order  of  the  Hospitalls, 
1557. 

4  See  Dunbar's  Poems,  ed.  Laing,  ii.  27  and  405. 


30  THE   HYE    WAY   TO 

But  in  wenter  they  drawe  to  the  towne, 

And  wyll  do  nothyng  but  go  vp  and  down, 
And  all  for  lodgyng  that  they  haue  here  by  nyght  ? 

Me  thynk  that  therin  ye  do  no  ryght,  150 

Nor  all  suche. places  of  hospytalyte 

To  comfort  people  of  suche  iniquyte. 
But,  syr,  I  praye  you  of  your  goodnes  and  fauour, 

Tell  me  which  ye  leaue,  and  which  ye  do  socour  ? 
For  I  haue  sene  at  sondry  hospytalles 

That  many  haue  lyne  dead  without  the  walles, 
And  for  lacke  of  socour  haue  dyed  wretchedly,1 

Unto  your  foundacyon  I  thynke  contrary, 
Moche  people  resort  here,  and  haue  lodgyng ; 

But  yet  I  maruell  greatly  of  one  thyng,  ieo 

That  in  the  nyght  so  many  lodge  without : 

For  in  the  whatche  whan  that  we  go  about, 
Under  the  stalles,  in  porches,  and  in  doores, 

I  wote  not  whither  they  be  theues  or  hoores. 
But  surely,  euery  nyght  ther  is  found 

One  or  other  lyeng  by  the  pound, 
In  the  shepe  cootes,  or  in  the  hey  loft, 

And  at  Saynt  Barthylmews  chyrch  doore  full  ofte, 
And  euen  here  alway  by  this  brycke  wall 

We  do  them  fynd  that  do  bothe  chyde  and  brail,  170 
And  lyke  as  bestes  togyder  they  be  throng, 


1  If  so,  it  was  assuredly  contrary  to  the  Order,  &c.  which 
prescribed  that  a  certificate  of  character,  &c.  should  be  required, 
"  except  in  cases  of  extremity,  where  losse  of  liffe  and  perishing 
would  presently  followe,  if  they  be  not  receved  into  this  said 
Hospitall ;  which  is  to  be  considered  of  by  the  Thresorer  and 
two  of  the  Almoners  of  the  leaste." 


THE  SPTTTEL   SOUS.  31 

Bothe  lame,  and  seke,  and  hole  them  among, 
And  in  many  corners  wher  that  we  go, 

Wherof  I  wondre  greatly  why  they  do  so ; 
But  oftymes  whan  that  they  vs  se, 

They  do  rene  a  great  deale  faster  than  we. 

1T  Porter.  Stiche  folkes  be  they  that  we  do  abiect, 

We  are  not  bound  to  haue  to  them  aspect ; 
Those  be  mychers  that  lyue  in  trewandyse ; 

Hospytalyte  dooth  them  alway  despyse.  iso 

IT  Copland.  Syr,  I  pray  you,  who  hath  of  your  relefe .? 

51"  Porter.  Forsoth  they  that  be  at  suche  myschefe,1 
That  for  theyr  lyuyng  can  do  no  labour, 

And  haue  no  frendes  to  do  them  socour ; 
As  old  people,  seke  and  impotent ; 

Poore  women  in  chyldbed  haue  here  easement ; 
Weyke  men  sore  wounded  by  great  vyolence, 

And  sore  men  eaten  with  pockes  and  pestylence, 
And  honest  folke  fallen  in  great  pouerte 

By  myschaunce  or  other  infyrmyte  ;  190 

Wayfaryng  men  and  maymed  souldyours 

Haue  thyr  relyef  in  this  poore  hous  of  ours  ; 
And  all  other,  which  we  seme  good  and  playne, 

Haue  here  lodgyng  for  a  nyght  or  twayne ; 
Bedred2  folke,  and  suche  as  can  not  craue, 

In  these  places  moost  relyef  they  haue ; 
And  yf  they  hap  within  our  place  to  dye, 

1  In  such  an  unfortunate  case.  2  Bedridden. 


32  THE   HYE   WAY   TO 

Than  are  they  burjed  well  and  honestly ; 
But  not  euery  vnseke1  stoborne  knaue, 

For  than  we  shold  ouer  many  haue.  200 

H  Copland.  How  say  you  by  these  comyn2  beggers- 
that  crye 

Dayly  on3  the  worlde,  and  in  the  hye  wayes  lye 
At  Westmynster  and  at  Saynt  Poules, 

And  in  all  stretes  they  syt  as  desolate  soules  ? 
Methynke  it4  a  very  well  done  dede 

With  deuocyon  suche  people  to  fede. 

5T  Porter.  Where  ony  gyueth  almesse  with  good  entent, 
The  rewarde  can  not  be  nowyse  mysspent. 

^T  Copland.  Ye,  but  syr,  I  wyll  not  lye,  by  my  soule, 

As  I  walked  to  the  chyrche  of  Saynt  Poule,          210 
There  sate  beggers,  on  eche  syde  the  way  two, 

As  is  seen  dayly  they  be  wont  to  do. 
Syr,  one  there  was,  a  myghty  stoburne  slaue, 

That  for  the  other  began  to  beg  and  craue  : 
"  Now,  mayster,  in  the  way  of  your  good  spede, 

To  vs  all  four  behold  where  it  is  nede ; 
And  make  this  farthyng  worth  a  halfpeny, 

For  the  fyue  ioyes  of  our  blyssed  lady  ! 5 


1  i.  e.  unsick,  whole.  2  Common. 

3  On  is  as  often  as  not  used  in  the  sense  of  in  in  old  books. 
It  frequently  occurs  in  the  New  Testament. 

4  Old  ed.  has  if,  it. 

5  The  Five  Joys  of  the  Virgin  were  five  short  poems,  or  rather 
a  poem  in  five  stanzas,  celebrating  the  beatific  condition  and 


THE   SPY T TEL    HOUS.  33 

Now  turne  agayn  for  Saynt  Erasmus  sake  ! 

And  on  my  bare  knees  here  a  vowe  I  make,         220 
Ovr  ladyes  psalter  thre  tymes  euen  now 


manifold  virtues  of  Our  Lady.     A  specimen  is  subjoined  from  a 
copy  printed  in  Reliquice  Antigua  „•- 

C  "  Seinte  Marie,  levedi  brijt, 

Moder  thou  art  of  much  el  mijt, 
Queue  in  hevene  of  feire  ble ; 
Gabriel  to  the  he  lijte, 
The  he  brouste  al  wid  rijte 

Then  holi  gost  to  listen  in  the. 
Godes  word  ful  wel  thou  cnewe ; 
Ful  mildeliche  therto  thou  bewe, 

Ant  saidest,  "  So  it  mote  be ! " 
Thi  thonc  was  studevast  ant  trewe ; 
For  the  joye  that  to  was  newe, 

Levedi,  thou  have  merci  of  me ! 

C   Seinte  Marie,  moder  milde, 
Thi  fader  bicome  to  one  childe, 

Sue  joye  ne  seal  never  eft  be. 
The  stronge  fend,  that  was  so  wilde, 
Godes  hondiwerc  he  spilde, 

For  on  appel  of  the  tre. 
Levedi,  mon  thou  broutest  bote, 
The  stronge  fend  an  under  fote, 

Tho  thi  sone  was  boren  of  the : 
For  the  joye  that  tho  was  swote, 
Levedi,  yemme  grace  that  I  mote 

Wid  al  mine  mijte  lovien  the ! 

C  Seinte  Marie,  quene  in  londe, 
Godes  moder  ant  Godes  sonde, 
That  te  sculde  ben  so  wo ; 
Jewes  heden  thi  sone  an  honde, 
VOL.  IV.  D 


34  THE   HYE   WAY    TO 

To1  turne  agayn,  as  God  shall  turne  to  you ! 
Now,  mayster,  do  that  no  man  dyd  this  day, 

On  yone  poore  wretch,  that  rotteth  in  the  way, 
Now,  mayster,  for  hym  that  dyed  on  tre, 

Lete  vs  not  dye  for  lacke  of  charyte  ! 
Thus  he  prated,  as  he  full  well  can, 

Tyll  at  last  an  honest  seruyng  man 
Came  by  the  way,  and  by  compassyon 

Of  his  wordes  dyd  his  deuocyon.  230 

Whan  he  was  gone  a  lytell  fro  thens, 

I  sawe  the  begger  pull  out  xi  pens, 
Sayeng  to  his  felawes :  Se,  what  here  is  ; 

Many  a  knaue  haue  I  called  mayster  for  this. 
Lete  vs  go  dyne,  this  is  a  symple2  day, 


Judas  soldin  hem  to  honde, 

On  the  rode  heo  gonnen  him  slo ; 

The  thridde  dai  he  ros  to  live : 

Levedi,  ofte  were  thou  blive, 
Ac  never  so  thou  were  tho. 

Levedi,  for  then  ilke  sive 

That  tou  were  of  thi  sone  blive, 

Al  mi  sunnes  thou  do  me  fro !" 

1  Old  ed.  has  now. 

*  Simple  is  here  employed  in  the  sense  of  poor,  or  unprofitable. 
It  also  formerly  stood  for  humble  or  lowly.  Thus  Caxton,  in  some 
of  his  colophons,  describes  himself  as  "symple  person,  William 
Caxton,"  and  Alexander  Scot  uses  it  in  a  similar  way  :— 

"  Send  be  thy  sempill  servand  SANDERIS  SCOTT, 
Greting  grit  God  to  grant  thy  grace  gude  f  eir." 
Poem*,  ed.  1821,  p.  12. 

But  perhaps  the  stricter  meaning  of  simple  in  early  compositions 
was  not  gentle,  i.  e.  "  somebody,  not  by  birth  a  gentleman,"  and 


THE   SPYTTEL    HOUS.  35 

My  mayster  therwith  shall  I  scantly  pay. — 
Come  these  folkes  hyther,  good  mayster  porter  ? 

^[  Porter .  No,  in  sothe ;  this  hous  is  of  no !  such 

supporter ; 
They  haue  houses,  and  kepe  full  yll  gestyng, 

And  to  the  resorte  all  the  hole  offspryng  240 

In  the  Berbycan  and  in  Turnmyll  strete,2 

In  Houndesdyche  and  hehynd  the  Flete ; 
And  in  twenty  places  mo  than  there, 

Where  they  make  reuell  and  gaudy  chere, 
With  fyll  the  pot  fyll,  and  go  fyll  me  the  can, 

Here  is  my  peny,  and  I  am  a  gentylman. 
And  there  they  byd  and  fyll  as  dooth  a  gull ; 


there  is  a  passage  in  Scot's  Poems,  already  quoted,  where  the 
word  appears  to  bear  this  precise  construction : — 

"  So  tho  my  lyking  wer  a  leddy, 
And  I  no  lord  fit  no  the  less 
Scho  suld  my  serwyce  find  als  reddy 
As  duke  to  duches  docht  him  dress ; 
Ffor  as  prowd  princely  luve  express 
Is  to  haif  souerenitie ; 
So  serwice  cumis  of  sympilness, 
And  leilest  luve  of  law  degre." 

1  i.e.  of  none  such,  as  we  now  less  correctly  say. 

2  The  whole  of  this  locality  seems  to  have  enjoyed  at  that 
time  an  unenviable  reputation,  and  it  was  in  no  better  odour  a 
century  later,  as  is  to  be  collected  from  the  satirical  writings  of 
the  reign  of  James  I.     At  the  commencement  of  the  17th  cen 
tury,  Turnbull,    or  Turnmill,  Street,  however,  was  celebrated 
rather  for  its  houses  of  ill  repute  than  for  its  beggars'  haunts  and 
thieves'  kitchens.  Taylor,  in  his  "  Flyting  with  Fenner,"  says  to 
his  opponent : — 


36  THE   HTE   WAT   TO 

And  whan  that  they  haue  theyr  heades  full, 
Than  they  fall  out,  and  make  reuylyng, 

And  in  this  wyse  make  the  dronken  rekenyng :    250 
Thou  beggerly  knaue,  bag  nor  staf  hast  thou  none, 

But  as  I  am  fayne  dayly  to  lend  the  one  ; 
Thou  getest  it  no  more,  though  it  lye  and  rote, 

Nor  my  long  cloke,  nor  my  new  patched  cote. 
This  rule  make  they  euery  day  and  nyght, 

Tyll  lyke  as  swyne  they  lye  slepyng  vpryght  j1 
Some  beggerly  churles,  to  whom  they  resorte, 

Be  the  maynteners  of  a  great  sorte  2 
Of  myghty  lubbers,  and  haue  them  in  seruyce, 

Some  iourney  men,  and  some  to  theyr  prentyce,   250 
And  they  walke  to  eche  market  and  fayre, 

And  to  all  places  where  folke  do  repayre, 
By  day  on  styltes,  or  stoupyng  on  crowches, 


"  Search  well  in  Turn-bull  Street,  or  in  Pickt-watch, 
Neere  Shorditch,  or  Long  Alley,  prethee  watch, 
And  amongst  the  trading  females  chuse  out  nine 
To  be  thy  muses,  they  will  fit  thee  fine." 

The  begging  and  stealing  fraternity  has  shifted  its  quarters 
pretty  often,  in  obedience  to  the  changes  which  have  taken 
place  in  the  metropolis.  It  was  from  about  the  reign  of 
Queen  Anne  that  St.  Giles's  dates  its  present  notoriety;  but 
even  in  the  time  of  the  first,  second,  and  third  Georges  this  and 
the  circumjacent  locality  retained  a  little  of  its  old  respectability. 
Yet  as  early  as  1710  a  "  mendicants'  convivial  club  "seems  to 
have  existed  in  Dyot  Street,  St.  Giles's,  to  which  it  had  mi 
grated  from  the  Poultry  (see  Notes  and  Queries,  I  S.  i.  229). 

'  All  this  description  is  frequently  applicable  to  the  "  frater 
nity  of  vagabonds"  of  the  present  day  and  their  noctumal 
revels. 

8  Assortment. 


THE   SPYTTEL    HO  US.  37 

And  so  dyssymule  as  fals  lewtryng  flowches, 
With  bloody  clowtes  all  about  theyr  legge, 

And  playsters  on  theyr  skyn,  whan  they  go  beg  ; 
Some  countrefayt  lepry,  and  other  some 

Put  sope  in  theyr  mouth  to  make  it  scome, 
And  fall  downe  as  Saynt  Cornelys  euyll. 

These  dysceyts  they  use  worse  than  ony  deuyll ;   210 
And  whan  they  be  in  theyr  owne  company, 

They  be  as  hole  as  eyther  you  or  I : 
But  at  the  last,  when  sekenes  cometh  in  dede, 

Than  to  the  spyttell  hous  must  they  come  nede. 

1T  Copland.  Ah,  Jesu  mercy  !  what  man  coud  coniect x 

The  mysery  of  suche  a  wretched  sect  ? 
None  honest  man.     But  yet  I  you  hertyly  pray, 

Tell  me  of  other  that  come  thys2  way. 
Come  here  ony  of  these  maysterles  men, 

That  euery  where  do  go  and  ren,3  280 

That  haue  serued  the  kyng  beyond  the  se, 

And  now  that  they  out  of  wages  be, 
They  must  beg,  or  els  go  brybe,4  and  steale  ? 

Methynk  it  is  a  great  soule-heale5 
To  help  them,  tyll  they  were  pouruayd 

Into  some  seruyce ;  for  yf  they  were  arayd, 


1  i.  e.  conjecture.  2  Old  ed.  has  these.  3  run. 

4  Rob.     In  the  Flyting  of  Dunbar  §•  Kennedy,  the  former 
ivs: — 

"  Ersche  brybour  baird,  vyle  beggar  with  thy  brattis — " 

5  i.  e.  a  great  salve  for  the  soule. 


2 


38  THE  HYE  WAY  TO 

Some  of  them  were  propre  men  and  tall,1 
And  able  to  go  whyther  they  shall. 

f  Porter.  That  is  trouth  ;  but  they  vse  one  yll  thyrig, 

For  they  do  were  souldyers  clothyng, 
And  so  beggyng  deceyue  folke  ouer  all, 


1  i.  e.  brave.  Marlowe  uses  it  in  the  same  way :— "  So,  now 
they  have  shew'd  themselves  to  be  tall  fellows." — The  Rich  Jew 
of  Malta,  1633. 

Q  The  Porter  might  be  describing  London  as  it  is.  This 
dialogue  is  very  graphic  and  interesting.  "  Wering  souldyers 
clothyng  "  was  at  this  time,  it  appears,  a  favourite  form  of  im 
posture,  and  the  case  was  just  the  same  a  century  later,  when 
Taylor  the  Water-Poet  wrote  his  Beggar  (1621).  Taylor  fur 
nishes  a  humourous  description  of  the  various  shifts  which  the 
decayed  military  mendicant  of  his  day  adapted  for  the  purpose 
of  extracting  money  from  the  public.  He  is,  first  of  all,  sup 
posed  to  meet  a  "Lord,  Knight,  or  Gentleman,"  whom  he 
addresses  as  follows : — "  Brave  man  of  honour,  cast  a  favorable 
looke  upon  the  wounded  estate  of  a  distressed  Gentleman  that 
hath  borne  armes  for  his  Countrey  in  the  hottest  broyles  of  the 
Netherlands,  with  the  losse  of  his  members ;  Cleveland  hath  felt 
my  strength ;  I  haue  bickered  with  the  French  at  Brest  and  Deipe. 
I  haue  passed  the  straights,  the  dangerous  Gulph  ;  the  Groyne 
can  speake  my  seruice  (Right  Honourable),"  &c.  If  his  suit  is 
successful,  he  invokes  a  blessing  on  the  head  of  the  donor  in  the 
manner  following : — "  Peace  be  to  thy  loynes,  (Right  Honoura 
ble)  and  plenty  at  thy  boord  :  oppression  in  the  Countrey,  and 
extortion  in  the  Citie,  embroder  thy  carkasse,  and  keepe  thy 
Concubine  constant,  that  Taylers  may  sue  to  the  for  worke,  more 
then  for  payment,"  &c.  He  then  goes  a  little  further,  and  meets 
(supposes  the  writer)  a  Lawyer,  for  whom  he  has  a  speech  ready 
cut  and  dry.  "  Humbly  sheweth  to  your  good  Worship,  your 
poore  suppliant  hauing  aduanced  his  bill  in  the  late  warres,"  &c ; 
whereupon  the  man  of  law  gets  rid  of  him  by  a  small  bounty, 
and  the  fellow  pronounces  a  suitable  benediction :  "  May  the 


THE  SPYTTEL  HO  US.  39 

For  they  bo  vacabondes  moost  in  generall, 
And  wyll  abyde  no  laborous  subiection 

With  honest  persones  vnder  correction  : 
For  whan  they  be  wery,  they  wyll  reste  away, 

And  perchauce  cary  with  them  what  they  may ; 
And  so  whan  a  man  wold  bryng  them  to  thryft, 


termes  be  everlasting  to  thee,  thou  man  of  tongue,  and  may 
contentions  grow  and  multiply,"  and  so  forth.  A  country  farmer 
is  the  next  victim.  "  You  shall  doe  well  to  take  notice  (Countrev- 
man  and  frend)  that  I  am  a  souldier  and  a  Gentleman,  who 
hauing  bin  made  Fortunes  tennis-ball,  was  lately  cast  vpon 
these  coasts  of  my  Countrey,  by  the  merciles  cruelty  of  the 
raging  and  tempestuous  seas ; "  and  he  proceeds  in  a  strain  of 
ludicrous  hyperbole  and  rhodomontade,  until  he  has  quite  over 
come  his  dupe,  who  hands  him  something,  and  is  blessed 
accordingly.  "  Faire  be  thy  haruest,  and  foule  thy  winter,  that 
plenty  may  fill  thy  Barns,  and  feare  of  scarcity  raise  thy  price, 
may  thy  land-lord  Hue  vnmarryed,  that  thy  fine  may  not  be 
raisde  to  buy  thy  new  land-lady  a  French  petticoate  or  a  new 
Blockt  Beauer,  nor  thy  rents  raisde  to  keepe  her  tire  in  fashion." 

The  soldiers  who  figured  as  beggars  and  vagabonds  in  former 
times  were,  however,  sometimes  genuine  men  of  the  sword. 
Some  paraded  in  the  streets,  and  made  a  commodity  of  their 
wounds,  real  or  pretended  (see  Gascoigne's  Steeh  Glas,  1576, 
sig.  E  2,  verso),  while  others  pilfered  and  robbed  on  the  high 
way.  It  is  probable  that  the  well-known  ballads,  "  We  be 
soldiers  three,"  and  "  We  be  three  poor  mariners,"  both  of  which 
are  printed  by  Mr.  Chappell  (Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time, 
77),  were  supposed  to  be  sung  by  discharged  members  of  the 
army  and  merchant  service  or  nav}',  strolling  about  the  country 
to  pick  up  what  they  could  get. 

It  appears  from  Harman's  Caveat  for  Common  Cursitors,  1565, 
ed.  1814,  pp.  1,  30,  that  the  counterfeit  soldiers  and  sailors 
were  technically  known  as  Rufflars  or  Curtesy  Men,  and  Freshe 
Water  Mariners,  or  Whip  Jackes  respectively.  See  also  p.  38 
of  the  same  work,  Awdeley's  Fraternity e  of  Vacabondes,  1573, 


40  THE  HYE   WAY  TO 

They  wyll  hym  rob,  and  fro  his  good  hym  lyft.1 

1T  Copland.  Though  some  so  do,  they  do  not  all  so, 
For  some  myght  chaunce  well  as  many  one  do.     300 

1T  Porter.  That  is  true ;  but  it  hath  ben  seen  long 
agone, 

That  many  haue  fared  the  wors  for  one ; 
And  of  these  be  two  sortes  moost  comynly. 

The  one  of  them  lyueth  by  open  beggery, 
Bagged  and  lowsy,  with  bag,  dysh  and  staf, 


repr.  1813,  pp.  1,  2,  and  The  Song  of  the  Begger  in  "A  Descrip 
tion  of  Love,  &c."  1620,  sm.  8vo,  where  the  military  impostor 
is  humourously  described. 

Moorfields  appears  to  have  been  notorious  in  this  reign  for 
sham-soldiers,  for  Nat.  Field  in  his  Woman  is  a  Weathercock, 
1612,  makes  one  of  its  characters,  Captain  Pouts,  say: — 

"  God-a-mercy !  Zoons!  methinks  I  see  myself  in  Moor 
fields  upon  a  wooden  leg,  begging  threepence." 

But,  as  Mr.  Collier  has  shown  in  his  reprint  of  the  drama,  this 
passage  is  only  copied  from  a  situation  given  to  Brainworm  in 
Jonson's  Every  Man  in  his  Humour,  1600. 

The  cheats  practised  by  beggars  in  early  times  are  referred  to 
in  the  ballad  of  Eobin  Hood  and  the  Four  Beggers,  where  Little 
John  makes  the  fellows  recover  their  lost  faculties  in  a  mar 
vellously  quick  time : — 

"  John  nipped  the  dumb,  and  made  him  to  rise, 

And  the  blind  he  made  to  see ; 
And  he  that  a  cripple  had  been  seven  years, 

He  made  them  run  faster  than  he." 

In  the  Liber  Vagatorum  der  Betler  Orden,  a  popular  German 
work,  there  are  some  curious  particulars  of  an  analogous 
character  to  those  described  by  Harman  and  others  in  our  OAvn 
literature. 

1  i.e.  rob  him  of  his  goods. 


THE  SPY  T TEL  HO  US.  41 

And  euer  haunteth  among  such  ryf  raf ; 
One  tyme  to  this  spyttell,  another  to  that, 

Prolyng1  and  pochyng  to  get  somwhat ; 
At  euery  doore  lumpes  of  bread  or  meat : 

For  yf  the  staf  in  his  hand  ones  catche  heat  sio 

Than  farwell  labour ;  and  hath  suche  delyte 

That  thryffc  and  honesty  fro  hym  is  quyte : 
And  in  suche  mysery  they  lyue  day  by  day, 

That  of  very  nede  they  must  come  this  way. 

IT  Copland.  Of  the  other,  now  what  is  theyr  estate  ? 

IT  Porter.  By  my  fayth,  nyghtyngales  of  Newgate  : 
These  be  they  that  dayly  walkes  and  jettes 

In  theyr  hose  trussed  rounde  to  theyr  dowblettes, 
And  say :  good  maysters,  of  your  charyte, 

Helpe  vs  poore  men  that  come  from  the  se ;          320 
From  Bonauenture  we  were  caste  to  lande, 

God  it  knowes,  as  poorly  as  we  stande  ! 
And  sotyme  they  say  that  they  were  take  in  Frauce, 

And  had  ben  there  vii.  yeres  in  duraunce  ; 
In  Muttrell,2  in  Brest,  in  Tourney  or  Tyrwyn,3 

In  Morlays,  in  Cleremount  or  in  Hedyn ; 
And  to  theyr  countrees  they  haue  ferre  to  gone, 

And  amonge  them  all  peny  haue  they  none. 
Now,  good  mennes  bodyes,  wyll  they  say  then, 

For  Goddes  sake  helpe  to  kepe  vs  true  men !        330 
Or  elles  they  say,  they  haue  in  pryson  be, 


i.  e.  prowling.  2  Montreuil.  3  Terouenne. 


42  THE  EYE   WAY  TO 

In  Newgat,  the  Kynges  Benche  or  Marchalse, 
As  many  true  men  take1  by  suspecyon, 

And  were  quitte2  by  proclamacyon. 
And  yf  ony  axe  what  countrey  men  they  be, 

And  lyke3  your  maystershyp,4  of  the  north  all  thre; 
Or  of  Chesshyre,  or  elles  nygh  Cornewall, 

Or  where  they  lyst,  for  to  gabbe5  and  rayle ; 
And  may  perchaunce  the  one  is  of  London,  339 

The  other  of  Yorke,  and  the  thyrde  of  Hampton.6 
And  thus  they  lewter  in  euery  way  and  strete, 

In  townes  and  chyrches,  where  as  people  mete, 
In  lanes  and  pathes,  and  at  eche  crosse  way, 

There  do  they  prate,  bable,  lye  and  praye. 
But  yf  ye  be  clenly,  and  haply  come  alone, 

Your  puree  and  clothynge  may  fortune  to  be  gone  : 
But  at  no  dore  for  brede,  drynke,  nor  potage, 

Nor  scoules  of  meate,  nor  no  suche  bagagc, 
They  none  desyre  to  put  in  bagge  nor  male  ; 

But  uery  whyte  threde  to  sewe  good  ale.  350 

And  whan  they  haue  goten  what  they  may, 

Than  to  theyr  lodgynge  they  do  take  theyr  way, 
Into  some  aley,  lane,  or  blynde  hostry, 


1  i.e.  taken.  2  i.e.  are  released. 

3  i.e.  if  it  like. 

4  We  are  here  reminded  of  the  song  in  Deuteromelia,  1609, 
4to:— 

"  We  be  soldiers  three ; 

Pardona  moy,  je  vous  en  pree, 
Lately  come  forth  of  the  Low  Country, 
With  never  a  penny  of  money." 

5  Gabble.  6  i.e.  Southampton. 


THE  SPYTTEL  HOUS.  43 

And  to  some  corner,  or  hous  of  bawdry, 
Where  as  ben  folke  of  theyr  affynyte, 

Brothelles  and  other  suche  as  they  be ; 
And  there  they  mete,  and  make  theyr  gaudy  chere, 

And  put  on  theyr  clothynge  and  other  gere, 
Theyr  swerdes  and  boclers,  and  theyr  short  daggers, 

And  there  they  reuell  as  vnthryfty  braggers,  seo 
With  horyble  othes  swerynge  as  they  were  wood,1 

Armes,2  nayles,  woundes,  herte,  soule  and  blood, 
Deth,  fote,  masse,  flesshe,  bones,  lyfe,  and  body, 

With  all  other  wordes  of  blasphemy, 
Bostynge  them  all  in  dedes  of  theyr  myschefe, 

And  thus  passe  the  tyme  wth  daunce,  hore,  pipe,  thefe. 
The  hang  man  shall  lode  the  daunce  at  the  ende, 

For  none  other  ways  they  do  not  pretende. 
And  whan  that  they  can  gete  nothyng  by  beggyng, 

To  maynteyne  suche  lyfe  they  fall  to  stelyng  ;  370 
And  so  this  way  the  come  at  the  last, 

Or  on  the  galowes  make  a  tomlyng  cast. 

IT  Copland.  More  pyte  to  se  our  owne  nacyon 

For  to  behaue  them  on  suche  facyon. 
Surely  there  is  an  act  of  parlyament, 

That  yf  ony  strong  vacabond  be  hent 3 

1  Mad.  2  i.  e.  God's  armes,  nayles,  &c. 

3  Copland  is  here  referring  to  one  of  the  Acts  of  22nd  Henry 
VIII.  which  was  printed  (with  the  other  acts  of  the  year)  by  T. 
Berthelet,  folio,  and  included  by  Rastell  in  his  "  Grete  Abbreg- 
ments,"  1534,  8vo.  The  Act  is  entitled,  ft  "An  acte  concernynge 
how  aged,  poore,  and  impotent  persones,  compelled  to  lyue  by 
almes,  shalbe  ordred :  and  howe  vacaboundes,  and  mighty 
stronge  beggers  shall  be  punyshed." 


44  THE  EYE   WA  Y  TO 

To  be  set  in  a  payre  of  stockes  openly, 

Certayn  days,  with  bread  and  water  onely, 
And  than  to  be  banysht  from  town  to  town, 

I  thynk  that  act  is  not  yet  put  down.  380 

If  it  were  execute  as  to  my  reason, 

Men  shold  not  se,  within  a  lytell  season, 
So  many  of  them,  nor  ydle  slouches, 

And  myghty  beggars  wth  theyr  pokes  and  crouches  ; 
But  they  be  mayntened  by  this  noughty  sect, 

That  all  this  land  is  with  them  infect ; 
I  meane  these  bawdy  brybrous  ]  knaues, 

That  lodgeth  them  that  so  powles  and  shaues. 
It  were  almes  2  that  they  were  loked  on  : 

For  they  be  wors  than  ony  thefe  or  felon.  390 

But  to  our  purpose.     Cometh  not  this  way 

Of  these  rogers,  that  dayly  syng  and  pray, 
With  Ave  regina,  or  de  profundis, 

Quern  terra,  Ponthus  and  Stella  maris  ? 
At  euery  doore  there  they  foot  and  frydge, 

And  say  they  come  fro  Oxford  or  Cambrydge, 
And  be  poore  scolers,  and  haue  no  inaner  thyng, 

Nor  also  frendes  to  kepe  them  at  lernyng ; 
And  so  do  lewter3  for  crust  and  crum, 

With  staffe  in  hand,  and  fyst  in  bosum,  400 

Passyng  tyme  so,  bothe  day  and  yere ; 

As  in  theyr  legend  I  purpose  shall  appere 
An  other  tyme,  after  my  fantasy. 

1  i.  e.  bribous,  from  bribe,  to  rob,  or  steal. 

*  i.  e.  It  were  charity.    See  Mery  Tales  and  Quiche  Ansiveres, 
ed.  Hazlitt,  p.  146. 
3  Old  ed.  has  lewtre. 


THE  SPTTTEL  HOUS.  45 

1T  Porter.  Suche  folkes  of  trouth  cometh  here  dayly, 
And  ought  of  ryght  this  hous  for  to  vse 

In  theyr  aege :  for  they  fully  do  refuse 
The  tyme  of  vertuous  excercyse, 

Wherby  they  shold  vnto  honour  aryse. 

IT  Copland.  Syr,  yet  there  is  another  company         4io 
Of  the  same  sect,  that  lyue  more  subtylly, 

And  be  in  manor  as  mayster  wardayns, 
To  whom  these  rogers  obey  as  capytayns, 

And  be  named  clewners,  as  I  here  say. 

1T  Porter.  By  my  sothe,  all  fals  harlots  be  they 
And  deceyuers  of  people  oiier  all ; 1 

In  the  countree  most  of  them  fynd  ye  shall. 
They  say,  that  they  come  fro  the  vnyuersyte, 

And  in  the  scoles  have  taken  degree 
Of  preesthood,  but  frendes  haue  they  none 

To  giue  them  ouy  exhybycion ;  420 

And  how  that  they  forth  wold  passe 

To  theyr  countree,  and  syng  theyr  fyrst  masse, 
And  there  pray  for  theyr  benefactours, 

And  serue  God  all  tymes  and  houres. 
And  so  they  lewter2  in  suche  rogacyons 

Seuen  or  eyght  yeres,  walkyng  theyr  stacyons, 
And  do  but  gull,  and  folow  beggery, 

Feynyng  true  doyng  by  ypocrysy, 
As  another  tyme  shalbe  shewed  playne. 


Old  ed.  has  ouerall.  2  Old  ed.  has  lewtre. 


46  THE  HTE  WAY  TO 

But  yet  there  is,  of  a  lyke  maner,  trayne  430 

Of  fals  brybours,  deceytfull  and  fraudelent, 

That  among  people  call  themselfs  sapyent : 
These  ryde  about  in  many  sondry  wyse, 

And  in  straunge  aray  do  themself  dysguyse ; 
Somtyme  in  maner  of  a  physycyan, 

And  another  tyme  as  a  hethen  man, 
Countrefaytyng  theyr  owne  tongue  and  speche, 

And  hath  a  knaue1  that  doth  hym  Englysh  teche, 
With,  me  non  spek  Englys  by  my  fayt ; 

My  seruaunt  spek  you  what  me  sayt —  440 

And  maketh  a  maner  of  straunge  countenaunce, 

With  admyracyons  his  falsnes  to  auaunce ; 
And  whan  he  cometh  there  as  he  wold  be, 

Than  wyll  he  feyne  merueylous  grauyte  ; 
And  so  chaunceth  his  hostes  or  his  hoost, 

To  demaund  out  of  what  straunge  land  or  coost, 
Cometh  this  gentylman  :  forsothe,  hostesse, 

This  man  was  borne  in  hethenesse, 
Sayth  his  seruaunt,  and  is  a  connyng  man, 

For  all  the  seuen  scyences  surely  he  can  ;  450 

And  is  sure  in  physyk  and  palmestry, 

In  augury,  sothsayeng  and  vysenamy ; 
So  that  he  can  ryght  soone  espy 

If  ony  be  dysposed  to  malady, 
And  therfore  can  gyue  suche  a  medycyne, 

That  maketh  all  accesses  to  declyne ; 
But  surely  yf  it  were  knowen  that  he 

Shold  medle  with  ony  infyrmyte 


i.e.  a  servant. 


THE  SPYTTEL  HO  US.  47 

Of  comyn  people,  he  myght  gete  liym  hate, 

And  lose  the  fauour  of  euery  great  estate ;  460 

Howbeit  of  charyte,  yet  now  and  then, 

He  wyll  mynyster  his  cure  on  pore  men. 
No  money  he  taketh,  but  all  for  Gods  loue, 

Which  by  chaunce  ye  shall  se  hym  proue. 
Than  sayth  he :  qui  speke  my  hostesse, 

Graund  malady  make  a  gret  excesse ; 
Dys  infant  rumpre  vng  grand  postum,1 

By  got,  <7ie  ala  mort  tuk  vnder  thum. 
What  sayth  he?   sayth  the  good  wyfe : — 

Hostesse,  he  swereth  by  his  soule  and  lyfe,  470 

That  this  chyld  is  vexed  with  a  bag 

In  his  stomacke,  as  great  as  he  may  wag, 
So  that,  or2  two  or  thre  days  come  about, 

It  wyll  choke  hym  withouten  dout ; 
But  than  he  sayth,  except  ye  haue  his  read, 

Thys  chyld  therwith  wyll  sodeynly  be  dead. 
Alas  !   sayth  she,  yf  she  loue  it  well, 

Now,  swete  mayster,  gyue  me  your  counsell. 
For  Gods  sake  I  aske  it  and  our  lady, 

And  here  is  twenty  shyllyngs  by  and  by.  480 

Quid  est?  sayth  he, — Forsoth  she  dooth  offre 

Viginti  solidi  pour  fournir  vostre  coffre  : 
To  do  your  help,  sayth  this  fals  seruyture. 

Non,  poynt  d'argent,  sayth  he,  pardeu,  ie  non  cure. 
He  wyll  no  money,  hostesse,  I  you  promyt  ;3 

For  Gods  sake  he  dooth  it  echo  whyt. 


1  i.  e.  break  a  great  imposthume.  2  Before. 

3  i.  e.  promise. 


48  THE  HYE   WAT   TO 

Than  calleth  he  anone  for  his  casket, 

That  scantly  is  worth  a  rotten  basket, 
And  taketh  out  a  powdre  of  experyence, 

That  a  carte  lode  is  not  worth  two  pence,  490 

And  in  a  paper  he  dooth  fayre  fold  it  vp, 

Fastyng  thre  days,  he  byddeth  that  to  sup. 
Than  for  a  space  he  taketh  lycence,1 

God  wot  as  yet  he  [be]  payd  for  none  exspence ; 
And  so  departeth.     And  on  the  next  day, 

One  of  his  felawes  wyll  go  the  same  way, 
To  bolster  the  matter  of  his  fals  bewpere.2 

He  sytteth  down,  and  maketh  good  chere, 
Which,  in  lykewyse,  loketh  on  the  chylde, 

Sayeng :  that  heuenly  vyrgyn  vndefylde,  soo 

Our  lady  Mary,  preserue  this  chyld  now ! 

For  it  is  seke,  hostesse,  I  tell  it  you ; 
For  or  thre  days,  but  our  Lorde  hym  saue, 

I  ensure  you  it  wylbe  in  a  graue. 
Good  syr,  sayth  she,  alas,  and  well  away ! 

Here  was  a  gentylman  euen  yesterday, 
That  tolde  the  same  accesse  and  dysease. 

Hostesse,  sayth  he,  yf  that  it  wold  you  please. 
What  maner  man  was  it,  I  pray  you  tell  ? 

Good  syr,  she  sayth,  in  sothe  I  know  not  well ;      oio 
But  Englysh  speche  in  dede  he  can  none, 

And  is  a  Jewe  his  man  told  vs  eehone. 
Yea,  [he]  was,  sayth  he,  I  know  hym  well  in  dede : 

I  wolde  I  had  spoke  with  hym,  or  he  yede  ;3 


Leave.          2  Accomplice.          3  i.  e.  before  he  went. 


THE  SPYTTEL  HO  US.  49 

But  hostesse,  in  faythe,  toke  he  ony  thing  ? 

By  my  trouth,  sayth  she,  not  one  farthyng. 
I  wote,  sayth  he,  but  I  maruell  that  he  wold ; 

But  out  of  charyte  in  suche  a  meane  houshold 
Do  say  so  moche,  for  yf  great  estates  it  knewe, 

His  company  than  wold  they  all  eschewe.  520 

Good  syr,  sayth  she,  yet  of  your  gentylnes 

Help  this  poore  chylde  of  this  sayd  sekenes, 
And  here  '.s  xx.  shyllyngs  for  your  payne, 

And  your  exspence  for  a  weke  or  twayne." 
Well,  hostesse,  sayth  he,  I  wyll  do  more  than  that 

For  you,  but  I  shall  tell  you  what. 
For  my  labour  I  aske  nothynge  at  all, 

But  for  the  drogges  that  occupy1  he  shall, 
The  which  be  dere  and  very  precyous ; 

And  surely,  I  wyll  neuer  out  of  your  hous  530 

Tyll  he  be  hole  as  eyther  you  or  I. 

Than  gooth  his  knaue  to  a  town  to  bye 
These  dragges  that  be  not  worth  a  t — de  ; 

And  there  they  lye  at  fourtenyght  at  horde 
With  these  good  folkes,  and  put  them  to  cost ; 

Bothe  meat  and  money  clerely  haue  they  lost. 
Yet  God  wote,  what  waste  they  made  and  reuell : 

So  at  the  last  departeth  this  Jauell 
With  the  money,  and  streyght  rydeth  he, 

Where  the  thefe  his  felaw  and  dyuers  others  be ;  540 
And  there  they  prate,  and  make  theyr  auaunt 

Of  theyr  deceytes,  and  drynk  adew  taunt. 
As  they  lyue,  I  pray  God  them  amend, 


VOL.  IV. 


50  THE  HYE   WAY  TO 

Or  as  they  be,  to  bryng  them  to  an  end : 
For  the  spyttell  is  not  for  theyr  estate, 
Howbeit  they  come  dayly  by  the  gate. 

IF  Copland.  A  shrewde  sorte,  by  our  lady,  and  a 

comberous ! 

Jesus  kepe  them  out  of  euery  good  mans  hous  ! 
But  cometh  ony  pardoners  this  way  ? 

1F  Porter.  Yea,  syr,  they  be  our  petours ;  and  fayn 

they  may ; 
Chyefly  syth  theyr  fals  popery  was  knowen,  551 

And  theyr  bullysh  indulgence  ouerthrowen, 
They  be  all  nought.     Keken  eche  with  other, 

Subtilte  is  theyr  father,  and  falshod  theyr  mother: 
For  by  letters  they  name  them  as  they  be ; 

P.  a  Pardoner :  Clewner  a  C  : 
R.  a  Roger:  A.  an  Aurium :  and  a  Sapyent,  S. 

Thus  they  know  eche  other  doubtles. 
But  whan  theyr  iuggelyng  cores  do  fayle, 

They  rene  ashore  and  here  stryke  sayle.  560 

IF  Copland.  By  my  sothe,  I  am  wery  to  here  of  theyr 
Ijuyng ; 

Wherfore  I  pray  you,  yf  ye  be  pleasyng, 
Tell  me  shortly  of  all  folke  in  generall, 

That  come  the  hye  way  to  the  hospytall. 

II  Porter.  It  is  tedyous  ;  but  for  your  mynde, 

As  nye  as  I  can,  I  wyl  shew  the  kynde 
Of  euery  sorte,  and  which  by  lykelynes 


THE  SPYTTEL  HOUSE.  51 

To  the  spyttell  his  way  dooth  adres. 
But  as  for  ordre,  I  promyse  none  to  kepe : 

For  they  do  come  as  they  were  scattered  shepe,    570 
Wandryng  without  reason,  rule  or  guyde, 

And  for  other  lodgyng  do  not  prouyde. 
But  to  our  purpose.     There  cometh  in  this  vyage 

They  that  toward  God  haue  no  courage, 
And  to  his  worde  gyue  none  advertence ; 

Eke  to  father  and  mother  do  not  reuerence ; 
They  that  despyse  folke  in  aduersyte ; 

They  that  seke  stryfe  and  iniquyte ; 
They  that  for  themself  do  kepe  nothy  ig, 

And  suche  as  hate  other  in  theyr  well  doyng.        580 
They  may  be  sure,  or  euer  they  dye, 

Lest  they  lacke  lodgyng,  here  for  to  lye. 

Preestes  and  clerkes,  that  lyue  vycyously, 

Not  caryng  how  they  shold  do  theyr  duty, 
Vnruly  of  mauers,  and  slacke  in  lernyng, 

Euer  at  the  alehous  for  to  syt  bybyng, 
Neglectyng  the  obedyence  to  them  dew, 

And  vnto  Chrystes  flocke  take  none  anew, 
But  lyke  as  wolues,  that  rauysh  the  folde, 

These  people  do  this  ryght  way  holde.  590 

Yong  heyres  that  enioy  theyr  herytage, 

Kulyng  themself,  or  they  come  to  aege  ; 
Occupyeng  vnthryfte  company, 

Spendyng  vp  theyr  patrymony 
Whyles  they  be  yong,  and  use  dyssolute  playes, 

Of  very  nede  they  must  come  these  wayes. 
All  such  people  as  have  lytell  to  spend, 


52  THE  EYE   WAY   TO 

Wastyng  it,  tyll  it  be  at  an  end ; 
And  whan  they  be  seke,  and  haue  nothyng, 

Toward  the  spyttell  than  they  be  comyng. 
They  that  haue  small  londes  and  tenements, 

Wearyng  dayly  costly  garments, 
That  at  the  last  they  must  be  fayne 

To  sell  theyr  rentes,  themself  to  sustayne, 
Whiche  is  a  token  of  veray  experyence, 

This  way  for  to  come  by  consequence. 
Bayllyfs,  stuardes,  caters  and  renters, 

Paymasters,  credytours  and  receyuers, 
That  be  neclygent  to  make  rekenyngs, 

Delyueryng  and  trustyng  without  wrytyngs  ; 
Uncaryng  for  to  rene  in  arerage  ;* 

By  this  way  they  must  nede  make  passage. 
Landlordes  that  do  no  reparacyons, 

But  leue  theyr  landes  in  desolacyons, 
Theyr  housyng  vnkept  wynd  and  water  tyght, 

Letyng  the  pryncypals  rot  doun  ryght, 
And  suffreth  theyr  tenauntes  to  renne  away : 

The  way  to  our  hous  we  can  them  not  den  ay. 
They  that  sew  in  the  court  dayly 

For  lyttell  besynesse,  and  spendeth  largely 
With  grete  gyftes,  and  yet  theyr  labour  lost : 

This  way  they  come  to  seke  for  theyr  cost. 
Fermours2  and  other  husbandmen,  that  be 

In  grete  fermes,  and  dooth  not  ouer  se 
Theyr  housbondry,  but  leteth  theyr  corne  rote, 


1  i  e.  not  minding  to  run  in  arrears.  2  Farmers. 


THE  SPYTTEL  HO  US.  53 

Theyr  hey  to  must,  theyr  shepe  dye  in  the  cote, 
Theyr  land  vntyld,  vndunged  and  vnsowen, 

Theyr  medowes  not  defenced,  and  unmowen, 
Theyr  fruyt  to  perysh,  hangyng  on  the  trees, 

Theyr  oatell  scater,  and  lose  theyr  houy  bees.       630 
All  yong  heyres,  borne  in  a  ryche  estate, 

And  wold  lyue  styll  after  the  same  rate, 
Beyng  yong  brethren  of  small  possybylyte,1 

Not  hauyng  wherwith  to  mayntene  such  degre, 
But  make  shyftes,  and  borow  ouer  all ; 

Suche  trace  pryson  to  be  theyr  hospytall. 
Self  wylled  people,  that  can  not  be  in  rest, 

But  in  the  lawe  do  euer  wry  the  and  wrest,2 
And  wyll  not  fall  to  ony  agrement, 

Tyll  in  theyr  neckes3  is  layd  by  jugement  640 

The  coster  and  charges,  and  so  are  made  full  bare : 

Lodgyng  for  suche  folke  we  do  euer  spare. 
People  that  alway  wyll  be  at  dystaunce, 

And  on  theyr  neyghbours  euer  take  vengeaunce, 
Beyng  auengyng  on  euery  small  wrong : 

From  this  way  they  cannot  be  long. 
They  that  wyl  medle  in  euery  mans  mater, 

And  of  other  folkes  dedes  dooth  alway  clatter, 
Mayntenyng  theyr  own  sayeng  to  be  true, 

And  are4  not  beleued :  they  can  not  eschue  650 


1  Means.  2  Wrestle. 

3  =  on  their  backs.     Thus,  in  A  C.  Mery  Talys,  p.  33,  we 
have : — "  The  sexten  toke  the  creple  on  his  nek,  and  came  in  to 
the  chyrchyarde  again." 

4  Old  ed.  has  is. 


54  THE  EYE   WAY  TO 

But  they  must  nedes  come  hjtherward: 

For  by  moche  medlyng  theyr  credence  is  mard. 
Marchaunts  that  beyond  the  see  bye  dere, 

And  lend  it  good  chepe,  whan  they  be  here, 
And  be  neuer  payed  but  by  the  lawe : 

Here  haue  no  beddyng,  but  lye  on  the  strawe. 
They  that  sell  good  cheap  in  despyte, 

Lettyng  all  theyr  gaynes  for  to  go  quyte, 
Byeng  ware  deare,  and  sell  for  a  lytell : 

They  be  uery  gestes  to  lye  in  our  spy tt ell.  660 

Craftes  men  that  do  worke  day  and  nyght, 

Havyng  great  charge,  and  theyr  gaynes  lyght, 
Wastyng  theyr  tooles,  and  can  them  not  renew, 

Full  well  may  saye :   farwell,  good  thryft  adew  ! 
He  that  wynneth  moche,  and  whan  he  hath  doone, 

With  waste  and  games  spendeth  it  soone, 
Leavyng  not  wherwyth  agayn  to  begyn : 

In  this  hye  way  he  hasteth  to  ryn. 
He  that  hath  a  good  occupacyon, 

And  wyll  lyue  on  the  courtly  facyon,  670 

And  to  worke  or  labour  is  wery, 

Wenyng  for  to  lyue  more  easyly : 
Somtyme  dooth  make  an  vnthryfty  chaunge, 

With  bag  and  staf  in  our  parke  to  raunge. 
Rufflers  and  masteries  men,  that  cannot  werke, 

And  slepeth  by  day,  and  walketh  in  the  derke, 
And  with  delycates  gladly  doth  fede, 

Swerynge  and  crakynge,  an  easy  lyfe  to  lede, 
With  comyn  women  dayly  for  to  haunt, 

Makynge  reuell,  and  drynke  a  dieu  taunt ;  eso 

Saynge :  make  we  mery  as  longe  as  we  can, 


THE  SPYTTEL  HOUS.  55 

And  drynke  a  pace :  the  deuill  pay  the  malt  man  ! l 
Wyne  was  not  made  for  euery  haskerde, 

But  here  and  ale  for  euery  dasterde, 
And  whan  theyr  money  is  gone  and  spent, 

Than  this  way  is  moost  conuenyent. 
Taverners  tyat  kepe  bawdry  and  pollyng, 

Marryng  wyne  with  brewyng  and  rollyng ; 
Inholders  that  lodge  hoores  and  theues, 

Seldon  theyr  getyng  ony  way  preues,  690 

So  by  reason  theyr  gaynes  be  geason,2 

This  way  they  rene  many  a  season. 
Bakers  and  brewers,  that  with  musty  grayne 

Serue  theyr  customers,  must  take  it  agayne, 
And  many  tymes  haue  they  no  vtteraunce : 

For  theyr  weyghts  and  measure  is  of  no  substaunce, 
And  lose  bothe  theyr  credence  and  good : 

[They]  come  this  way  by  all  lykelyhood  : 

1  i.  e.  let  any  one  pay  him  that  chooses.     A  proverbial  ex 
pression  is  probably  here  cited.     Formerly,  very  little  commi 
seration  was  felt  for  this  class  of  persons,  as  they  were  notorious 
for  their  fraudulent  practices.    Dunbar  satirizes  the  maltman  of 
his  day  in  the  "Devill's  Inquest"  (Poems,  ed.  Laing,  i.  47) : — 

"  The  maltman  sayis,  I  God  forsaik, 
And  mot  the  devill  of  hell  me  taik, 

Gif  ony  better  malt  may  be 
And  of  this  kill  I  haif  inlaik: 
Renunce  thy  God,  and  cum  to  me. 

Ane  browstar  swore  the  malt  wes  ill, 
Baith  reid  and  reikit  on  the  kill, 
That  it  will  be  na  aill  for  me; 
Ane  boll  will  not  sex  gallons  fill: 
Renunce  thy  God,  and  cum  to  me." 

2  Scanty. 


56  THE  HYE   WAY  TO 

For  they  do  infect  that  shold  be  mans  food. 

They  that  wyll  be  surety  for  euery  det,  700 

And  wyll  pay  more  than  they  of  ryght  be  set, 
For  to  be  named  a  man  lyberall, 

And  in  maner  he  hath  nothynge  at  all ; 
Suche  folysshe  facers  whan  theyr  good  is  spent, 

To  the  spyttell  warde  they  renne  incontynent. 
Yonge  folke  that  wedde,  or  they  be  wyse, 

And  alway  charges  on  theyr  hand  dooth  ryse, 
Hous  rent  and  chyldren,  and  euery  other  thyng, 

And  can  do  nothyng  for  to  gete  theyr  lyuyng, 
And  haue  no  frendes  them  for  to  sustayne :  710 

To  com  this  way  at  last  they  must  be  fayne. 
They  that  sell  away  theyr  rentes  and  landes, 

And  bestovveth  it  for  to  be  merchandes, 
And  auentreth,  tyll  them  haue  all  lost, 

And  turmoyleth  alway  fro  pyler  to  post, 
And  euer  leseth  all  that  they  go  about 

Cometh  this  way  amonge  the  other  rout. 
They  that  in  hope  to  haue  theyr  frendes  dye, 

Wyll  do  nothynge  but  lyue  wantonly, 
Trustynge  to  haue  the  treasowr  that  is  left,  720 

But  many  tymes  it  is  them  bereft, 
And  haue  nothyng,  and  nothynge  can  do : 

Suche  come  this  way  with  other  to. 
They  that  dooth  to  other  folkes  good  dede, 

And  hath  themselfe  of  other  folke  more  nede, 
And  quencheth  the  fyre  of  another  place, 

And  leueth  his  owne,  that  is  in  wors  cace, 
Whan  it  is  brent,  and  woteth  not  where  to  lye  : 

To  the  spyttell  than  must  he  nedes  hye. 


THE  SPYTTEL  ffOUS.  57 

They  that  wyll  not  suffre  theyr  clothe  hole,  730 

But  iag  and  cut  them  with  many  a  hole, 
And  payeth  more  for  makyng  than  it  cost, 

Whan  it  is  made,  the  garment  is  but  lost, 
Patchyng  them  with  colours  lyke  a  fole, 

At  last  they  be  ruled  after  our  scole. 
They  that  do  make  to  moche  of  theyr  wyues, 

Suffryng  them  to  be  nought  of  theyr  lyues, 
Letyng  them  haue  ouermoche  of  theyr  wyll, 

Clothyng  them  better  than  they  can  fulfyll, 
Letyng  them  go  to  feestes,  daunces  and  plays,          7-10 

To  euery  brydale,  and  do  nothyng  on  days,1 
And  gyueth  them  all  the  soueraynte  : 

Must  needes  come  this  way,  for  they  cannot  pthe. 

*f[  Copland.  Come  hyther  ony  of  these  wofull  creatures 
That  be  sore  wounded,  and  moche  wo  endures 

With  a  shrewd  wyfe,  and  is  neuer  quyet, 
Bycause  that  she  wold  haue  all  her  dyet, 

But  bralle  and  chyde,  babble,  crye  and  fyght, 
Euer  uncontented  bothe  day  and  nyght?2 

IT  Porter.  Come  this  way,  quod  a  ?     Yes,  I  warraunt 
you,  750 

Of  them  alway  come  this  way  ynow ; 
We  haue  chambres  purposely  for  them, 

Or  els  they  shold  be  lodged  in  Bedlem. 


1  working-days,  not  holidays  or  Sundays. 

2  Such  characters  as  are  pourtrayed  in  the  Scole  house  of  Wo 
men  and  the  Proud  Wyues  Paternoster. 


58  THE  HYE   WAY  TO 

IF  Copland.  Mary,  God  forbyd,  it  shold  be  as  ye  tell ! 

IT  Porter.  By  good  fayth,  the  uery  deuyll  of  hell 
I  trowe  to  my  mynd  hath  not  moche  more  payne. 

One  were  in  a  maner  as  good  be  slayne  : 
Fer  there  is  no  joye  but  euer  anguysh  ; 

On  bothe  sydes  they  do  always  languysh ; 
For  the  one  gooth  hyther,  and  the  other  thyder,       760 

Bothe  they  spend,  and  by  nothyng  togyder ; 
So  at  the  last,  of  very  necessyte, 

Hyther  they  come  to  aske  lodgyng  of  me. 

IF  Copland.  I  do  knowe  it  is  the  ryght  facyon  ; 

A  realme  stryuyng  in  itself  gooth  to  desolacyon. 
God  amend  all,  I  haue  herd  what  it  is. 

Tell  of  some  other  ;  I  am  wery  of  this. 

1F  Porter.  All  maysters  that  lete  theyr  seruaunts  play, 

Fedyng  them  deyntyly  euery  day, 
And  dooth  cloth  and  pay  them  as  they  shold  be,       770 

Beyng  neclygent  theyr  worke  to  ouerse, 
Suffryng  them  waste,  and  theyr  good  spy  11, 

In  theyr  presence  to  do  theyr  lewd  wyll ; 
And  all  those  that  pay  not  theyr  hyre,' 

Vengeaunce  of  God  it  dooth  desyre, 
These  on  bothe  partes  do  eche  other  wrong : 

This  way  they  come  with  a  great  throng. 
All  suche  servaunts  as  be  neclygent 

In  theyr  seruyce,  and  wyl  not  be  content 
To  do  theyr  werk,  but  slacke  theyr  besynes,  7so 

Brybe  and  conuey  fro  mayster  and  maystres, 


THE  SPYTTEL  NOUS.  59 

Chaungyng  maysters,  and  ren  fro  town  to  towne, 

And  are  late  rysyng,  and  betyme  lye  downe, 
Playeng  by  nyght,  and  tryflyng  by  day  : 

Of  ryghtousnes  they  do  here  stay. 
Suche  folke  as  take  on  them  great  rent, 

In  soyles  for  them  inconuenyent 
Vnto  theyr  faculte,  and  often  do  remeue,1 

Entreprysyng  that  they  cannot  acheue ; 
Doyng  curyous  labours,  and  haue  small  wage  :  790 

Vnto  our  hous  they  come  for  hostage. 
They  that  borow  on  theyr  garments  and  napry, 

And  do  not  fetche  them  agayn  shortly,2 
But  lete  them  be  worn,  and  than  pay  the  some : 

In  to  our  hye  way  they  be  far  come. 
They  that  borow,  and  purpose  not  to  pay 

Tyll  in  pryson  they  spend  all  away, 
And  do  forswere  that  is  theyr  dew ; 

They  that  lawe  for  a  debt  vntrew, 
And  receyueth  money  in  another  mans  name,  soo 

Not  beyng  content  to  restore  the  same ; 
They  that  forget  that  to  them  is  ought ; 3 

They  that  stryue  with  all  folke  for  nought ; 
And  they  that  lend,  and  set  no  tyme  to  pay  : 


1  i.  e.  remove.     So  meve  is  used  for  move. 

a  Formerly  persons  used  not  only  to  resort  to  Long  Lane  and 
similar  localities,  for  the  purpose  of  buying  and  selling  their 
clothes,  but  with  a  view  of  raising  money  on  them.  In  '•  Harry 
White  His  Humour "  (circa  1640)  the  writer  says: — "It  goes 
to  his  (Harry's)  very  heart  to  heare  the  man  that  cryes  '  buy  a 
brush :'  for  it  puts  him  in  minde  of  his  holy-day  suit  that  lyes 
in  Long  Lane  to  be  brusht." 

3  Owed. 


GO  THE  HYE   WAY  TO 

Reason  wyll  drjue  them  to  come  this  way. 
Old  folkes  that  all  theyr  goodes  do  gyue, 

Kcpyng  nothyng  wheron  to  lyue, 
And  put  fro  theyr  hous  whan  they  haue  nede  : 

Toward  our  hous  fast  do  they  spede. 
They  that  gyue  chyldren  money  to  spend,  sio 

And  causeth  them  not  at  theyr  byddyng  attend, 
But  dooth  mayntene  them  in  theyr  lewdnes, 

And  fro  syne  wyll  them  not  redres ; 
In  ydle  wantonnes  suffryng  them  to  be, 

Nor  teache  them  vertuous  faculte  ; 
Are  the  cause  that,  whan  they  be  olde,  * 

They1  take  the  way  toward  our  houshold. 
They  that  euermore  haue  a  delyte 

To  fede,  and  make  feastes  at  theyr  appetyte 
With  costly  dysshes  and  deynty  drynke,  820 

Letyng  theyr  stocke  euermore  shrynke, 
Makyng  a  great  porte,  and  be  lytell  worth : 

To  come  hyther  they  come  streyght  forth. 
They  that  takes  no  hede  to  theyr  houshold, 

But  lete  theyr  implements  molde, 
Theyr  hangyngs  rot,  theyr  napery  vnclene, 

Theyr  furres  and  wollen  not  ouersene> 
Theyr  vessell  mar,  and  theyr  goodes  decay  : 

Cannot  chuse  but  nedes  come  this  way. 
Lechours,  fornycatours  and  advouterers,8  sso 

Incestes,  harlots,  bawdes  and  bolsterers, 
Applesquyers,  entycers  and  rauysshers  : 

These  to  our  place  haue  dayly  herbegers. 

1  Old  ed.  has  to.  2  Adulterers. 


THE  SPYTTEL  HO  US.  61 

1T  Copland.  No  marvell  of  them,  and  happy  they  be, 

If  they  do  and  in  so  honest  degre  : 
For  surely  theyr  endyng  is  fayrest, 

If  that  with  pouerte  they  be  supprest : 
For  I  do  fynd  wry  ten  of  aduoutry 

That  these  fyue  sorowes  ensueth  therby, 
Ex  istis  penis  patietur  quisquis  adidter  ,•  840 

Aut  erit  hie  pauper,  hie  aut  subito  morietur, 
Aut  aliquid  mebrum  casu  vulnere  perdet, 

Aut  erit  inf amis  per  quod  sit  career e  vinctus. 
Eyther  they  shall  be  poore,  or  dye  sodeynly, 

Or  lese  by  wound  some  membre  of  the  body, 
Or  to  be  sclaundred  to  suffre  sharpe  pryson, 

Therfore  pouerte  is  fayrest  by  reason. 
And  yet  besyde  that  they  be  so  beaten, 

That  with  great  pockes  theyr  lymmes  be  eaten. 
How  say  ye  by  these  horryble  svverers,  850 

These  blasphemers  and  these  God  terers  ? 
Come  there  ony  this  way  to  haue  socour  ? 

IF  Porter.  Do  they  !  yea,  I  warraunt  euery  hour, 
All  rotten  and  torne,  armes,  heades  and  legges, 

They  are  the  moost  sorte  that  ony  where  begges, 
And  be  the  people  that  moost  anoy  us. 

1F  Copland.  I  beleue  well :  for  I  fynd  wryten  thus, 
Vir  multu  iurans  replebitur  iniquitate,  et  a 

domo  eius  non  recedet  plaga.1 
A  great  swerer  is  full  of  iniquyte,  860 

1  Eccles.  xxii.     In  old  ed.  this  is  printed  so  as  to  form  part 
of  the  lint  859,  where  it  is  not  required. 


62  THE  HYE   WAY  TO 

And  fro  his  hous  the  plage  shall  neuer  be. 
In  the  commaundements  is  wryten  playn : 

Thou  shalt  not  take  the  name  of  God  in  vayn ; 
For  who  sow  dooth  vse  it  customably,1 

The  stroke  of  God  can  not  eschew  truly. 
But  come  none  of  these  slouthfull  folkes  hyther 

That  be  so  vnlusty,  so  sluggysh  and  lyther?2 
That  care  not  how  the  world  dooth  go, 

Neyther  halydays,  nor  workyng  days  also, 
But  lye  in  bed,  tyll  all  masses  be  doone,  870 

Lewtryng  theyr  worke  tyll  it  pas  noone ; 
And  so  enioye  to  lynger  and  to  slepe, 

And  to  theyr  lyuyng  they  take  no  maner  kepe. 

11  Porter.  These  folkes  come  in  so  great  nombre, 

That  all  the  ways  they  do  encombre ; 
And  with  them  dothe  come  all  these  folke,  that  spare 

To  assay  theyr  frendes  for  theyr  owne  welfare. 
But  folow  theyr  owne  myndes  alway, 

Nor  to  theyr  frendes  in  no  wyse  wyll  obay, 
And  of  theyr  promesses  they  be  no  more  set  by ;       sso 

But  to  this  way  they  must  them  nedes  apply. 


1  Customarily,  habitually. 

2  Idle.     It  is  here  found  in  its  primitive  signification ;  but  it 
acquired,  long  before  the  composition  of  the  present  piece,  the 
general  meaning  of  bad  or  vicious.     Thus  Chaucer  says,  in  The 
Cuckoo  and  the  Nightingale  : — 

"  For  he  may  do  al  that  he  woll  devise, 
And  lither  folk  to  destroyen  vice, 
And  proude  hertes  he  can  make  agrise." 


THE  SPYTTEL  HO  US.  63 

IF  Copland.  And  how  by1  these  people  so  full  of 
coueytyse 

That  all  the  worldes  good  can  them  not  suffyse, 
But  by  vsury,  rapyne  and  extorcyon, 

Do  poulle  the  pore  folke  of  theyr  porcyon  ? 
And  they  that  invent  newes  by  tyranny 

Vpon  poore  mens  landes  fraudelently, 
And  lyke  as  wolues  the  shepe  dooth  take  and  tease, 

For  theyr  owne  lucre  and  to  lyue  in  ease, 
And  day  by  day  in  euery  maner  degre,  890 

They  do  prolonge  theyr  iniquite. 

1T  Porter.  As  for  with  them  we  haue  to  do  nothyng : 

Ynto  the  lawe  it  is  all  belongyng. 
How  be  it,  yf  they  chaunce  to  be  poore, 

Then  often  indede  they  do  come  by  our  doore. 

1F  Copland.  But  then  I  pray  you,  how  say  ye  by  these, 
That  breke  this  precept  non  furtum  fades, 

Theves  and  murtherers,  and  these  watchers  of  wayes, 
That  robbe  and  steale  bothe  by  nyghtes  and  dayes, 

And  that  delyte  in  murder  and  in  theft,  900 

Whose  condycyons  in  no  wyse  can  be  left, 

Do  not  they  oft  tymes  come  hyther  by  you  ? 

H  Porter.  Of  them  there  cometh  dayly  ynow ; 
But  they  be  led,  and  comenly  fast  bounde, 

Bycause  theyr  lodgyng  may  soner  be  founde ; 
And  ben  conueyed  by  men  of  charyte 

Where  that  they  haue  hospytalyte, 

1  Be. 


64  THE   EYE    WAY    TO 

And  ben  well  kept  and  wrapped  surely, 

And  whan  tyme  cometh  that  they  must  dye, 

They  be  buryed  aloft  in  the  ayre,  9i( 

Bycause  dogs  shall  not  on  theyr  graues  repayre. 

1F  Copland.  Almyghty  Jesu  of  his  mercy  defende 

Euery  good  manes  chylde  from  such  an  ende ! 
And  how  say  ye  by  all  these  grete  dronkardes 

That  suppe  all  of  by  pottes  and  tankardes, 
Tyll  they  be  so  dronke  that  they  cannot  staude  ? 

That  is  but  lytell  used  in  this  lande, 
Except  it  be  among  Duche  folke,  or  Flemynges ; 

For  Englysshe  men  knowe  not  of  suche  rekeingcs. 

1T  Porter.  No[t]  do  !  yes,  yes  !  I  ensure  you  hardely, 

They  can  do  it  as  well  as  ony  body  ;  921 

With  dowble  beare,  be  it  wyne  or  ale, 

They  ceas  not,  till  they  can  tell  no  ryght  tale, 
With  quyxte  quaxte  ie  brynxte  lief  brore 

An  ortkyn,  or  an  half  beres,  by  gots,  more. 
Yea,  rather  thaw  fayle  drynke  it  clene  out, 

With  fyll  the  jfot  ones  agayn  round  about : 
Gyue  us  more  drynke,  for  sparyng  of  bread ; 

Tyll  theyr  cuppes  be  wyser  than  theyr  head : 
And  so  syt  they,  and  spend  vp  all  theyr  thryft,         93C 

And  after  come  here  :  they  haue  no  other  shyft. 

IT  Copland.  How  say  ye  by  these  folkes  full  of  yre, 

That  brene  in  wrath  hoter  than  fyre, 
And  neuer  be  quyet,  but  chyde  and  brail 


THE   SPYTTEL    HO  US.  65 

With  wrath  and  anger,  fretyng  hert  and  gall  ? 
Wayward,  wode,  furyous  and  fell, 

For  where  they  be  quyetnes  cannot  dwell ; 
But  alway  stryfe,  mystrust  and  great  dysease, 

And  in  no  wyse  none  man  can  them  please. 

11  Porter.  Hyther  they  come,  and  I  wyll  tell  you  why  ; 

None  can  lyue  by  the  well,  nor  quyetly  ;  941 

But  with  eche  one  they  fall  out,  and  make  bate,1 

Causyng  people  them  for  to  hate, 
And  wyll  suffre  them  to  dwell  no  where, 

But  are  fayne  for  to  remayne  here. 

II  Copland.  It  may  well  be  so,  for  where  as2  none 
agre, 

Neyther  thryft,  nor  welfare  cannot  be : 
But  I  trust  it  be  not  betwene  man  and  wyfe, 

Than  it  were  pyte  and  eke  a  sory  lyfe. 
For  where  is  no  peas  at  bed,  nor3  at  borde,  950 

I  reken  theyr  thryft  is  not  worth  a  t — de. 
But  of  these  people  that  ben  so  stout, 

That  in  welth  and  wo  here  it  so  out, 
That  pryde  wyll  not  suffre  them  for  t6  fall : 

Methynke  this  way  they  come  not  all  ? 

H  Porter.  0  yes,  yes  !  God  wote,  of  them  be  not  fewe, 
For  here  all  day  they  assemble  in  a  rewe, 

And  here  they  crake,  bable,  and  make  grete  boste, 
And  amonge  all  other  wolde  rule  the  roste :  959 

1  i.  e.  make  mischief.  2  Former  ed.  has  is. 

3  Old  ed.  has  not. 
VOL.  IV.  F 


66  THE   HYE    WAT   TO 

With  stande  backe,  you  lewd  vylayne,  beggerly  knaue, 

I  wyll  that  thou  knowe  my  wyfe  and  I  haue 
Spent  more  in  a  daye  with  good  honeste 

Than  thou  in  thy  lyfe  euer  was  lyke  to  be ; 
For  I  tell  the  I  haue  kept,  or  now,  suche  reporte 

That  all  my  neyghtbours  dyd  to  me  resorte ; 
And  haue,  or  now,  kept  a  grete  housholde, 

And  had  ynough  of  syluer  and  of  golde. 
In  all  our  parysshe  was  none  better  decked, 

And  I  thynke  scorne  for  to  be  thus  checked 
Of  suche  lewde  persons,  that  neuer  had  good ;          970 

And  eke  I  am  borne  of  as  good  a  blood  ; 
As  ony  in  this  towne,  and  a  gentylman ; 

But  yf  I  had  as  moche  as  I  wyst  whan, 
I  shold  make  a  meyny  of  these  poore  carles  to  know, 

What  maner  thyng  a  gentylman  is,  I  trowe. 

1F  Copland.  Lo,  here  one  may  se  that  there  is  none  wori 

Than  is  a  proude  herte  and  a  beggers  purs, 
Grete  boost  and  small  roost :  this  is  euydent, 

For  a  proude  hert  well  never  be  shent. 
But,  good  porter,  I  pray  you,  be  so  kynde  98 

To  tell  me  of  them  out  of  mynde, 
As  for  the  enuyous  I  lete  them  dwell : 

For  theyr  hospytall  is  the  depe  pyt  of  hell. 

IF  Porter.  How  say  ye  by  this  lewd  ipocrysy, 

That  is  used  so  superstycyously  ? 
I  cry  God  mercy,  yf  I  make  ony  lye, 

Of  them  that  deuout  prayers  seeme  to  occupy ; 


THE   SPTTTEL    HO  US.  67 

As  yf  God  fro  the  cros  by  them  shold  be  vndone, 

And  syt  in  the  chyrche,  tyll  it  be  noone, 
Neuer  speakyng  in  ony  folkes  presence,  990 

But  it  soundeth  to  vertue  and  reuerence ; 
Yet  whan  they  be  moeued  to  anger  and  wrath, 

I  trowe  to  my  mynde  that  other  folke  hath 
Not  half  the  spyte,  vengeaunce  and  rygour, 

As  they  wyll  have  to  theyr  poore  neyghbour. 
For  some  of  them,  yf  they  myght  be  a  lorde, 

Wold  hang  another :  they  be  of  suche  dyscorde. 
And  where  they  ones  take  hatred  or  enmyte, 

Duryng  theyr  lyfe  haue  neuer  charyte : 
And  who  that  hath  no  charyte,  nor  loue,  LOGO 

Can  neuer  please  the  Amyte  aboue : 
And  so  this  way  they  be  fayne  to  come. 

1T  Copland.  I  beleue  well :  for  truely  there  be  some, 
That  neyther  haue  loue  to  one,  nor  other ; 

For  I  wene,  yf  it  were  syster  or  brother, 
They  wold  no  more  pyte  them  nor  rewe 

(They  be  sq  fell),  than  on  a  thefe  or  Jewe. 
For  whan  ye  thynk  to  haue  them  moost  in  reason, 

Than  be  theyr  hertes  full  of  deadly  poyson  ; 
And  in  theyr  fury  they  be  so  vyolent,  1010 

That  they  wyll  bryng  one  to  an  exegent, 
And  neuer  pardon,  nor  no  man  forgyue, 

Tyll  theyr  neyghbour  hath  nothyng  on  to  lyue ; 
And  so  they  make  by  theyr  own  consyence 

Betwene  God  and  the  deuyll  no  dyffrence. 
But  hey,  alas  !  do  none  this  way  trace 

That  do  take  wyues  of  small  effycace, 


68  THE  HTE   WAT  TO 

Which  cannot  yet1  bestow,  nor  yet  saue, 
And  to  go  gay  they  wyll  spend  and  crane  ; 

Makyng  men  wene  that  they  loue  them  alone,2         1020 
And  be  full  fals  unto  them  echone, 

Spendyng  theyr  goodes  without  ony  care, 

Without  good  gownes,  but  not  of  hoodes  bare  ? 

U"  Porter.  They  must  come  hyther,  for  they  cannot 
chuse, 

For  they  that  wyll  themselfe  so  vse, 
The  one  to  gete,  and  the  other  spend  ; 

And  whan  all  is  brought  to  an  end, 
Hether  they  come  to  haue  conforte. 

Syr,  I  beshrew  all  the  hole  sorte  ; 
Such  genyfenycs  kepeth  many  one  lowe,  1030 

Theyr  busbandes  must  obey  as  dog  to  bowe. 
Alas  !  sely  men,  ye  are  yll  at  ease, 

These  deynty  huswyues  for  to  fede  and  please  : 
For  so  they  syt  and  sew  half  an  hour  on  a  clout, 

Theyr  hole  dayes  worke  is  patched  out ; 
And  so  by  theyr  tryflyng  and  lyuyng  nought, 

With  other  means  they  be  hyther  brought. 

IF  Copland.  Well,  good  porter,  I  pray  you  let  them 
alone, 

For  happy  is  he  that  hath  a  good  one. 
I  pray  you  shewe  me  of  other  gestes,  104C 

For  agaynst  women  I  loue  no  iestes. 

1  Fomer  ed.  has  get. 

8  Here  we  are  strongly  reminded  of  some  passages  in  th< 
Proud  Wyues  Paternoster. 


THE  SPYTTEL   HO  US.-  69 

The  showre  is  almoost  dene1  and  I  haue  fer  to  go  ; 

Come  none  of  these  pedlers  this  way  also, 
With  pak  on  bak,  with  their  bousy  speche, 

Jagged  and  ragged,  with  broken  hose  and  breche  ? 

1T  Porter.  Inow,  ynow ;  with  bousy  coue  maimed  nace 

Teare  the  patryng  coue  in  the  darkman  cace 
Docked  the  dell  for  a  coper  meke 

His  watch  shall  feng  a  prounces  nobchete 
Cyarum  by  salmon  and  thou  shalt  pek  my  jere        1050 

In  thy  gan  for  my  watch  it  is  nace  gere 
For  the  bene  bouse  my  watch  hath  a  coyn. — 

And  thus  they  babble,  tyll  theyr  thryft  is  thyn, 
I  wote  not  what  with  theyr  pedlyng  frenche, 

But  out  of  the  spyttle  they  haue  a  party  stenche, 
And  with  them  comes  gaderers  of  cony  skynnes, 

That  chop2  with  laces,  poyntes,  nedles  and  pyns. 

1F  Copland.  Come  ony  maryners  hyther  of  Cok  Lorels 
bote?3 

IT  Porter.  Euery  day  they  be  alway  a  flote : 
We  must  them  receyue,  and  gyne  them  costes  fre, 


1  Done.  2  i.  e.  chap  or  hawk. 

3  Under  the  title  of  Cock  Lorells  Bote,  Wynkyn  de  Worde 
printed,  without  date,  a  brief  metrical  satire  on  the  times,  some 
what  in  the  style  of  the  Navis  Stultifera  of  Brandt,  1497.  A 
translation  of  Brandt's  book  was  published  by  Pynson  in  1508. 
Only  one  copy  of  Cock  Lorells  Bote  is  known,  and  that  is 
not  perfect.  Cock  Lorel,  from  whom  it  was  named,  was  a  noted 
robber  and  thief.  The  tract  has  been  reprinted  three  times 
during  the  present  century.  See  above. 


70  THE  HYE   WAY  TO 

And  also  with  them  the  fraternyte  1061 

Of  vnthryftes,  which  do  our  house  endewe, 

And  neuer  fayle  with  brethren  alway  newe. 
Also  here  is  kept,  and  holden  in  degre 

With  in  our  hous  the  ordres  viii.  tyme  thre 
Of  knaues;1  only  we  can  them  not  kepe  out, 

They  swarme  so  thyke  as  bees  in  a  rout ; 
And  chyef  of  all  that  dooth  vs  encombre, 

[Is]  the  ordre  of  fooles,  that  be  without  nombre : 
For  dayly  they  make  suche  preas2  and  cry,  1070 

That  scant  our  hous  can  them  satysfy. 


1  The  writer  here  speaks  of  four-and-twenty  Orders  of  Knaves, 
which  corresponds  with  the  number  described  on  a  leaf  attached 
to  the  Heber  copy  of  Harman's  Caveat  for  Common  Cursitors, 
1567, 4to.  But  it  seems  that  an  additional  one  was  subsequently 
discovered  or  invented,  for,  in  Awdeley's  Fraternitye  of  Vaca- 
bondes,  printed  in  1573,  4to,  we  hear  of  twenty-Jive  Orders  of 
Knaves.  The  number  was  possibly  not  quite  accurately  deter 
mined,  and  fluctuated  according  to  the  fancy  of  the  writer. 
From  an  entry  in  the  Registers  of  the  Stationers'  Company 
(Collier's  Extracts,  i.  42),  there  is  room  to  infer  that  the  Fra 
ternitye  of  Vacabondes,  including  the  twenty -five  Orders  of  Knaves, 
was  in  existence  as  early  as  1560-1,  although  no  edition  of  so 
early  a  date  is  at  present  known.  The  author  of  this  production 
found  imitators.  In  1562-3,  Alexander  Lacy  paid  "ourpence 
for  his  licence  to  print  "  The  xx.  Orders  of  Callettes  or  Drab- 
bys"  (Collier's  Extracts,  i.  71),  and  in  1569-70,  Henry  Kyrkham 
obtained,  on  similar  terms,  leave  to  print  "  a  ballett  intituled  the 
xx.  orders  of  fooles  (Collier's  Extracts,  i.  224).  Whether  "  xx." 
in  the  last  article  be  an  error  of  the  clerk  for  "  xxv."  it  is  diffi 
cult  to  judge ;  but  a  ballad  is  extant  with  the  following  title : 
"  The  xxv.  Orders  of  fooles."  Finis,  q.  T.  G.  Imprinted  at 
London  by  Alexander  Lacie  for  Henry  Kyrkham.  See  An 
Elizabethan  Garland,  1856,  p.  22. 

2  i.  e.  press,  crowd. 


THE  SPYTTEL  HOUS.  71 

f  Copland.  Yet  one  thyng  I  wonder  that  ye  do  not 

tell: 
Come  there  no  women  this  way  to  dwell  ? 

11  Porter.  Of  all  the  sortes  that  be  spoken  of  a  fore, 

I  warraunt  women  ynow  in  store, 
That  we  are  wery  of  them ;  euery  day 

They  come  so  thycke,  that  they  stop  the  way. 
The  systerhod  of  drabbes,  sluttes  and  callets, 

Do  here  resorte,  with  theyr  bags  and  wallets, 
And  be  parteners  of  the  confrary1  ioso 

Of  the  maynteners  of  yll  husbandry. 

11  Copland.  A  lewd  sorte  is  of  them  of  a  surety. 

Now,  mayster  Porter,  I  thank  you  hertyly 
Of  your  good  talkyng  ;  I  must  take  my  leue  ; 

The  shoure  is  done,  and  it  is  toward  eue ; 
Another  tyme,  and  at  more  leaser, 

I  wyll  for  you  do  as  great  a  pleaser. 

^[  Porter.  There  be  a  M.  mo  than  I  can  tell ; 
But  at  this  tyme  I  byd  you  farwell. 


C  iUnuog  of  tje  &uctout. 

Go  lytell  quayre2  to  euery  degre,  1090 

And  on  thy  mater  desyre  them  to  loke, 

1  Fraternity. 

a  i.  e.  quire  [of  paper],  hence  a  pamphlet,  which  usually  con 
sisted  only  of  a  quire,  or  sheet.    Writers  formerly  spoke  of  their 


72     HYE   WAT  TO  SPTTTEL  110 US. 

Desyryng  them  for  to  pardon  me, 

That  am  so  bolde  to  put  them  in  my  boke  ; 

To  eschue  vyce  I  the  vndertoke, 

Dysdeynyng  no  maner  of  creature  ; 

I  were  to  blame,  yf  I  them  forsoke  ; 

None  in  this  world  of  welth  can  be  sure. 


quire,  or  quayre,  as  we  now  do  of  our  sheets.     Thus,  Lyndsay,  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  Complaynt  of  the  Papingo,  says : — 
"And  to  the  quair  I  geif  commandement, 
Mak  na  repair,  quhare  poetis  bene  present : 
Because  thow  bene  but  rethorik  sa  rude, 
Be  never  sene,  besyde  nane  uther  buke." 

Upon  which  passage  Mr.  Chalmers  notes  that  Chaucer,  in  the 
Envoy  to  the  Knightes  Tale,  has  a  similar  expression  : — 

"  Go,  litill  quayre " 

The  expression  is,  however,  not  particularly  rare.  The  anony 
mous  author  of  Colyn  Bhwlols  Testament  employs  it  in  the  Envoy 
to  that  production  : — 

"  Thow  litelle  quaver,  how  darst  thow  shew  thy  face, 

Or  com  yn  presence  of  men  of  honeste  ?  " 
See  vol.  i.  p.  109. 


Cfje  Papne  anti  ©orotoe  of 
aijarpage. 


I^HE  Payne  and  Sorowe  of  Euyll  Maryage. 
[Beneath  this  a  woodcut  of  a  wedded  couple  with  a  priest 
who  joins  their  hands.     Here  endeth  ye  payne  and  sorowe  of 
euyll  maryage.  Imprynted  at  London  in  fletestrete  at  the  sygne 
of  the  Sonne,  by  me  Wynkyn  de  Worde. 

n.  d.  4to.  four  leaves,  with  Wynkyn  de  Worde's  large  tripartite. 
device  on  the  reverse  of  the  last  leaf  (No.  vi.  of  Dibdin's  List). 

The  present  tract  enters  into  the  series  of  those  which  have 
been  published  with  the  object  of  exposing  and  ridiculing 
the  frailties  of  the  female  sex.  Three  other  pieces  of  the 
game  character  proceeded  from  the  press  of  W.  de  Worde  :  "  A 
Complaynte  of  them  that  ben  to  late  maryed,"  "A  Complaint 
of  them  that  be  to  soone  maryed,"  and  Henry  Fielding's  Fyftene 
Joyes  of  Maryage,  1509.  One  of  these  has  been  included  by 
Mr.  Collier  in  his  "  Illustrations  of  Early  English  Literature." 


AKE   hede  and  lerne,  tliou  lytell  divide, 

and  se 

That  tyme  passed  wyl  not  agayne  retourne, 
And  in  thy  youthe  unto  vertues  use  the  : 
Lette  in  thy  brest  no  maner  vyce  sojourne, 
That  in  thyne  age  thou  haue  no  cause  to  mourne 


74        THE  PAYNE   AND    SOEOWE 

For  tyme  lost,  nor  for  defaute  of  wytte : 

Thynke  on  this  lesson,  and  in  thy  mynde  it  shytte.1 

Glory  unto  god,  louynge  and  benyson 

To  Peter  and  Johan  and  also  to  Laurence, 

Which  haue  me  take2  under  proteccyon  10 

From  the  deluge  of  mortall  pestylence, 

And  from  the  tempest  of  deedly  vyolence, 

And  me  preserue  that  I  fall  not  in  the  rage 

Under  the  bonde  and  yocke  of  maryage. 

I  was  in  purpose  to  haue  taken  a  wyfe, 

And  for  to  haue  wedded  without  auysednes 

A  full  fayre  mayde,  with  her  to  lede  my  lyfe, 

Whome  that  I  loued  of  hasty  wylfulnes, 

With  other  fooles  to  haue  lyued  in  dystresse,  19 

As  some  gaue  me  counseyle,  and  began  me  to  constrayne 

To  haue  be  partable  of  theyr  wooful  payne. 

They  laye  upon  me,  and  hasted  me  full  sore, 
And  gaue  me  counseyle  for  to  haue  be  bounde, 
And  began  to  prayse  eche  daye  more  and  more 
The  woofull  lyfe  in  whiche  they  dyd  habounde, 
And  were  besy  my  gladnes  to  confounde, 
Themselfe  rejoysynge,  bothe  at  euen  and  morowe, 
To  haue  a  felowe  to  lyue  with  them  in  sorowe. 

But  of  his  grace  god  hath  me  presented 

By  the  wyse  counseyle  of  these  aungelles  thre :  so 

From  hell  gates  they  haue  my  lyfe  conserued 

In  tyme  of  warre,  whan  louers  lusty, 

1  Shut.  a  Taken. 


OF  EVTLL    MAEYAGE.  75 

And  bryght  Phebus  was  fresshest  unto  se 
In  Gemynys,  the  lusty  and  glad  season, 
Whan  to  wedde  caught  fyrst  occasyon. 

My  joye  was  sette  in  especyall 

To  haue  wedded  one  excellent  in  fayrncs, 

And  thrugh  her  beaute  haue  made  my  selfe  thrall 

Under  the  yocke  of  euerlastynge  dystresse ; 

But  god  alonely  of  his  high  goodnes  40 

Hath  by  an  aungell,  as  ye  haue  herde  me  tell,1 

Stopped  my  passage  from  that  peryllous  hell. 

Amonge  these  aungelles,  that  were  in  nombre  thre, 

There  appered  one  out  of  the  southe, 

Whyche  spake  fyrst  of  all  the  trynyte 

All  of  one  sentence,  the  mater  is  full  couthe ; 2 


1  This  points  to  an  earlier  production  by  the  same  writer,  of 
which  we  have  no  present  information,  unless  it  was,  indeed, 
"A  Complaynt  of    them  that  be  to  soone  Maryed,"  already 
mentioned,  printed  by  W.  de  Worde,  1535,  4to,  13  leaves.     The 
author  of  the  latter  comments,  at  any  rate,  with  equal  severity 
upon  the  sex,  and  uses  similarly  powerful  pleas  against  entrance 
into  the  married  state,  as  may  be  judged  by  the  fact  that  after 
eight  days'  experience,  he  puts  into  the  lady's  mouth  the  fol 
lowing  sentiment : — 

"  Cursed  be  the  houre  that  I  ne  was 
Made  a  none  in  some  cloyster 
Neuer  there  for  to  passe 
Or  had  be  made  some  syster 
In  seruage  with  a  clousterer." 

Complaynt  of  them  that  be  to  soone 
maryed  (Dibdin's  Ames,  ii.  365). 

2  Pleasant. 


76        THE   PAYNE   AND    SOROWE 

And  lie  was  called  Johan  with  the  golden  mouthe,1 
Which  concluded  by  sentence  full  notable, 
Wyues  of  custome  ben  gladly  varyable. 

After  this  Johan,  the  story  sayth  also,  so 

In  confyrmacyon  of  theyr  fragylyte, 

How  that  Peter,  called  acorbylio, 

Affermeth  playnly,  how  that  wyues  be 

Dyuerse  of  herte,  full  of  duplycyte, 

Mayterfull,  hasty,  and  eke  proude, 

Crabbed  of  langage  whan  they  lyst  crye  aloude. 

Who  taketh  a  wyfe  receyueth  a  great  charge, 

In  whiche  he  is  full  lyke  to  hauc  a  fall : 

With  tempest  tossed,  as  is  a  besy  barge  ; 

There  he  was  fre  he  maketh  hymselfe  thrall.  60 

Wyues  of  porte2  ben  full  imperyall,3 

Husbandes  dare  not  theyr  lustes  gaynsaye, 

But  lowely4  please  and  mekely  them  obaye. 

The  husbandes  euer  abydeth  in  trauavle ; 

One  labour  passed,  there  cometh  an  other  newe, 

And  euery  daye  she  begynneth  a  batayle, 

And  in  complaynynge  chaungeth  chere  and  hewe. 

Under  suche  falsnes  she  fayneth  to  be  true ; 

She  maketh  hym  rude  as  is  a  dull  asse, 

Out  of  whose  daunger  impossyble  is  to  passe.  TJ 


1  St.  Chryaostom.  2  Deportment.  3  Imperious. 

4  Percy  Society  ed.  has  lovely. 


OF   EVYLL    MARY  AGE.  77 

Thus  wedlocke  is  an  endlesse  penaunce, 

Husbandes  knowe  that  haue  experyence, 

A  martyrdom  and  a  contynuaunce 

In  sorowe  euerlastynge,  a  deedly  vyolence  ; 

And  this  of  wyues  is  gladly  the  sentence 

Upon  theyr  husbandes,  whan  they  lyst  to  be  bolde, 

How  they  alone  gouerneth  the  housholde. 

And  yf  her  husbande  happen  for  to  thryue, 

She  sayth  it  is  her  prudent  purueyaunce : 

If  they  go  abacke  ayenwarde  and  unthryue,  so 

She  sayth  it  is  his  mysgouernaunce. 

He  bereth  the  blame  of  all  suche  ordynaunce ; 

And  yf  they  be  poore  and  fall  in  dystresse, 

She  sayth  it  is  his  foly  and  lewdnesse. 

And  yf  so  be  he  be  no  workman  good, 

It  may  well  happe  he  shall  haue  an  home, 

A  large  bone  to  stuffe  with  his  hood ; 

A  mowe 1  behynde,  and  fayned  cheere  beforne  : 

And  yf  it  fall  -that  theyr  good  be  lorne, 

By  auenture,  eyther  at  euen  or  morowe,  90 

The  sely  husbande  shall  haue  all  the  sorowe. 

An  husbande  hath  greate  cause  to  care 
For  wyfe,  for  chylde,  for  stuffe  and  meyne, 
And  yf  ought  lacke  she  wyll  both  swere  and  stare, 
He  is  a  wastour  and  shall  neuer  the : 


Mock. 


78        THE   PAYNE   AND    SOROWE 

And  Salomon  sayth  there  be  thynges  thre, 
Shrewde  wyues,  rayne,  and  smokes  blake 
Make  husbandes  ofte  theyr  houses  to  forsake. 

Wyues  be  beestes  very  unchaungeable 

In  theyr  desyres,  whiche  may  not  staunched  be,        100 

Lyke  a  swalowe  whiche  is  insacyable  : 

Peryllous  caryage  in  the  trouble  see ; 

A  wawe  calme  full  of  aduersyte, 

Whose  blandysshynge  endeth  with  myschaunce, 

Called  Gyrenes,  euer  full  of  varyaunce. 

They  them  rejoyce  to  se  and  to  be  sene, 

And  for  to  seke  sondrye  pylgrymages, 

At  greate  gaderynges  to  walke  on  the  grene, 

And  on  scaffoldes  to  sytte  on  hygh  stages, 

If  they  be  fay  re  to  she  we  theyr  vy  sages ;  no 

And  yf  they  be  foule  of  loke  or  countenaunce, 

They  it  amende  with  pleasynge  dalyaunce. 

And  of  profyte  they  take  but  lytell  hede, 

But  loketh  soure  whan  theyr  husbandes  ayleth  ought : 

And  of  good  mete  and  drynke  they  wyll  not  fayle  in  dede, 

What  so  euer  it  cost  they  care  ryght  nought ; 

Nor  they  care  not  how  dere  it  be  bought, 

Eather  than  they  should  therof  lacke  or  mysse, 

They  wolde  leeuer  laye  some  pledge  ywys. 

It  is  trewe,  I  tell  you  yonge  men  euerychone,  120 

Women  be  varyable  and  loue  many  wordes  and  stryfe  : 
Who  can  not  appease  them  lyghtly  or  anone, 


OF   EVYLL    MARYAQE.  79 

Shall  haue  care  and  sorowe  all  his  lyfe, 

That  woo  the  tyme  that  euer  he  toke  a  wyfe  ; 

And  wyll  take  thought,  and  often  muse 

How  he  myght  fynde  the  maner  his  wyfe  to  refuse. 

But  that  maner  with  trouth  can  not  he  founde, 

Therfore  be  wyse  or  ye  come  in  the  snare, 

Or  er  ye  take  the  waye  of  that  bounde ;  129 

For  and  ye  come  there  your  joye  is  tourned  unto  care, 

And  remedy  is  there  none,  so  may  I  fare, 

But  to  take  pacyens  and  thynke  none  other  way  aboute  ; 

Then  shall  ye  dye  a  martyr  without  ony  doute. 

Therfore,  you  men  that  wedded  be, 

Do  nothynge  agaynst  the  pleasure  of  your  wyfe,1 

Than  shall  you  lyue  the  more  meryly, 

And  often  cause  her  to  lyue  withouten  stryfe ; 

Without  thou  art  unhappy  unto  an  euyll  lyfe, 

Than,  yf  she  than  wyll  be  no  better,  139 

Set  her  upon  a  lelande,  and  bydde  the  devyll  fet  her. 

Therfore  thynke  moche  and  saye  nought, 

And  thanke  God  of  his  goodnesse, 

And  prece  not  for  to  knowe  all  her  thought, 


1  So  counsels  Udall  in  the  Song  of  the  Minion  Wife,  in  his 
Ralph  Roister  Doister : — 

"  If  she  will  fare  well,  yf  she  wyll  go  gay, 

A  good  husband  ever  sty  11, 
What  ever  she  lust  to  doe  or  to  say, 
Must  lete  hir  have  hir  owne  will." 


80    PAYNE  OF  EVYLL  NAEYAGE. 

For  than  shalte  thou  not  knowe,  as  I  gesse, 
Without  it  be  of  her  own  gentylnesse, 
And  that  is  as  moche  as  a  man  may  put  in  his  eye, 
For,  yf  she  lyst,  of  thy  wordes  she  careth  not  a  flye. 

And  to  conclude  shortly  upon  reason, 

To  speke  of  wedlocke  of  fooles  that  be  blente, 

There  is  no  greter  grefe  nor  feller  poyson,  150 

Nor  none  so  dredeful  peryllous  serpent, 

As  is  a  wyfe  double  of  her  entent. 

Therfore  let  yonge  men  to  eschew  sorowe  and  care 

Withdrawe  theyr  fete,  or  they  come  in  the  snare.1 


C  '$!ere  entretj)  #e  pajnte  anti  sototoe  of  eugll 
margage.  Imprgnteti  at  Uontion  in  fletegttete 
at  tje  sggne  of  tje  Sonne,  fcg  me 
tie 


2  In  the  Complaynte  of  them  that  ben  to  late  maryed,  on  the 
contrary,  the  writer  observes : — 

"  Better  it  is  in  youthe  a  wyfe  for  to  take, 
And  lyue  with  her  to  goddes  pleasaunce, 
Than  to  go  in  age  for  goddes  sake, 
In  wordely  sorowe  and  perturbaunce 
For  youthes  loue  and  utteraunce, 
And  than  to  dye  at  the  last  ende, 
And  be  dampned  in  hell  with  the  foule  fende." 


Cfce  IBofee  of  sgjagti 


HERE  is  the  boke  of  mayd  Emlyn  that  had  v.  husbandes 
and  all  kockoldes ;  she  wold  make  theyr  berdes  whether 
they  wold  or  no,  and  gyue  them  to  were  a  praty  hodefulle  of 
belles.  Imprynted  at  London  without  Newegate,  in  Saynt 
Pulkers  [Sepulkers]  Parysshe,  by  me  John  Skot,  dwellynge  in 
the  Olde  Bayly. 

n.  d.  [circa  1520],  4to.  black  letter,  with  a  woodcut  on  the 
title  (borrowed  for  the  nonce  from  Barclay's  Ship  of  Fools, 
1508),  of  a  man  and  a  woman,  the  former  having  his  head  sur 
mounted  by  a  pair  of  bells. 

The  Boke  of  Mayd  Emlyn  was  one  of  five  poetical  tracts,  all 
from  the  library  of  T.  Caldecott,  Esq.  edited  by  Dr.  Rimbault 
for  the  Percy  Society.  From  a  feeling  that  it  would  add  to  the 
completeness  and  interest  of  the  present  collection,  it  is  now 
given  precisely  as  it  stands  in  the  Percy  Society  edition,  certain 
amendments  in  the  pointing  excepted. 

The  lady,  of  whose  career  we  are  presented  in  this"  Boke  "  of  her 
with  a  sort  of  gwasi-biographical  sketch,  appears  to  have  been  a 
personage  of  very  similar  character  to  the  "  Widow  Edyth,"  her 
contemporary,  whose  Twelve  Mery  Gestys  were  published  in 
1525.  ($&Q  Old  English  Jest-Books,  iii.)  Whether,  however,  Maid 
Emlyn  was,  as  Chaucer's  Wife  of  Bath  may  be  presumed  to 
have  been,  drawn  from  the  life,  or  was  a  purely  fictitious  crea 
tion,  we  are  unable  to  determine. 

The  tract  is  considerably  more  entertaining  than  many  of  the 
so-called  poetical  effusions  which  appeared  during  the  reign  of 
VOL.  IV.  G 


82      THE  BOKE  OF  MA  YD  EMLTN. 

Henry  VIII.  and  later;  and  the  author,  whoever  he  may  have 
been,  was  unquestionably  a  man  with  a  true  vein  of  humour. 
As  a  picture  of  the  times,  its  value  need  not  be  insisted  upon. 

Like  the  Jests  of  the  Widow  Edith,  the  Book  of  Maid  Emlyn 
seems  to  have  been  the  work  of  an  unfriendly  pen — unfriendly 
to  the  heroine,  whose  exploits  furnish  the  tale,  and  to  the  sex 
generally. 

In  the  Wyf  of  Bathes  Prologe  Chaucer  has  the  following 
passage,  which  may  have  been  seen  by  the  present  writer : — 

"Lo,  herken  such  a  scharp  word  for  the  nones! 
Biside  a  welle  Jhesus,  God  and  man, 
Spak  in  reproof  of  the  Samaritan ; 
'  Thou  hast  y-had  fyve  housbondes,'  quod  he ; 
'  And  that  ilk  man,  which  that  now  hath  the, 
Is  nought  thin  housbond — ' " 

And  then,  farther  on,  the  Wife  of  Bath  is  made  to  say,  in 
reference  to  King  Solomon ; — 

"  God  wot,  this  nobill  king,  as  to  my  wit, 
The  firste  night  had  many  a  mery  fit 
With  eche  of  hem,  so  well  was  him  on  lyve. 
I-blessid  be  God  that  I  have  weddid  fyve ! 
Welcome  the  sixte  whan  that  ever  he  schal ! 
For  sothe  I  nyl  not  kepe  me  chast  in  al." 


is  tje  fcofce  of  magtj  (fcmlgn  tfjat  jati 
,b*  ^usimnties  antr  all  fcocfcottres ;  s je  tooHr 
mafee  tjegr  fierta  tofjetfjet  tjeg  tooltr  or  no, 
anfc  ague  tjern  to  torn  a  pratg  {jootjefull  of 
Mies, 


rLL  ye  here  of  meruaylles 
Drawne  out  of  Gospelles 

Of  mayde  Emlynne, 
That  had  husbandes  fyue, 
And  all  dyd  neuer  thryue  ? 

She  coude  so  well  spynne, 
Louynge  to  go  gaye, 
And  seldom  for  to  praye, 

For  she  was  borne  in  synne : 
Oft  wolde  she  seke  10 

The  tauernes  in  the  weke, 

Tyll  her  wytte  was  thynne ; 
Full  swetely  wolde  she  kys 
With  galauntesj  ywys, 

And  say  it  was  no  synne ; 
Thus  collynge  in  armes 
Some  men  caught  harmes, 

Full  lytell  dyd  they  wynne  ; 
And  if  her  husbande  said  ought, 
Loke  what  she  sonest  cought,  20 

At  his  heed  she  wolde  it  flynge. 
She  wolde  saye,  lozell  thou, 


84  THE  BOKE  OF 

I  wyll  teche  the,  I  trowe, 

Of  thy  language  to  blynne ; 
It  is  pyte  that  a  knaue 
A  prety  woman  sholde  haue, 

That  knoweth  not  golde  from  tynne. 
I  trowe  thou  j  abuse  be 
Bytwene  my  cosyn  and  me, 

That  is  called  syr  Sym  ; 1  so 

Thoughe  I  go  ofte  thyder, 
We  do  nought  togyder, 

But  prycked  balades  synge.2 
And  I  so  cunnynge  be 
The  more  worshyp  is  to  the, 

Gyuynge  thanke  to  hym  : 
For  he  me  fyrste  taught, 
So  I  may  cunnynge  caught, 

Whan  I  wente  a  brosshynge. 
With  suche  wordes  douse  40 

Thys  lytell  prety  mouse 

The  yonge  lusty  prymme 
She  coude  byte  and  whyne, 
Whan  she  saw  her  tyme, 

And  with  a  prety  gynne 
Gyue  her  husbande  an  home, 
To  blowe  with  on  the  morne  : 

Beshrowe  her  whyte  skynne. 

1  Maid  Emlyn  had  a  cousin  in  the  church  with  whom  her 
husband  suspected  her  of  an  improper  intimacy. 

2  This  was  a  very  favourite  occupation  among  all  classes  at  that 
epoch.     Henry  himself  set  the  example.     The  King  and  Sir 
Peter  Carew  used  to  sing  ballads  together. 


MA  YD  EMLYN.  85 

And  ofte  wolde  she  sleke 

To  make  smothe  her  cheke,  so 

With  redde  roses  therin ; 
Than  wolde  she  mete, 
With  her  lemman  swete, 

And  cutte  with  hym. 
Talkynge  for  theyr  pleasure, 
That  cocke  with  the  fether 

Is  gone  an  huntjnge ; 
Hymselfe  all  alone 
To  the  wode  he  is  gone  eo 

To  here  the  kockowe  synge. 
Thus  with  her  playfere 
Maketh  she  mery  chere, 

The  husbande  knoweth  nothynge ; 
She  gyueth  money  plente, 
Bycause  newe  loue  is  daynte, 

Unto  her  swetynge. 
And  prayeth  ofte  to  come, 
To  playe  there  as  shyneth  no  sonne : 

So  at  the  nexte  metynge,  70 

She  gyueth  her  husbande  a  prycke 
That  made  hym  double  quycke, 

So  good  was  the  gretynge. 
Kocke  called  of  the  bone, 
That  neuer  was  mayster  at  home, 

But  as  an  vnderlynge ; 
His  wyfe  made  hym  so  wyse, 
That  he  wolde  tourne  a  peny  twyse, 

And  then  he  called  it  a  ferthynge. 
Nothynge  byleued  he  so 


86  THE  BOKE  OF 

But  that  ho  dyd  with  his  eyes  se, 
Full  trewe  was  his  meanynge, 
She  cherysshed  hym  with  brede  and  chesc, 
That  his  lyfe  ho  dyd  lose : 

Than  made  sho  mournynge. 
And  dranko  deuoutly  for  his  soule, 
The  handbell  ofte  dyd  she  colic, 

Full  great  sorowo  makynge. 
This  sory  widowe 
But  a  whyle  I  trowe  w 

Mournynge  dyd  make ; 
Whan  he  was  gone, 
A  yonge  lusty  one 

She  dyd  than  take : 
Longe  wolde  she  not  tary, 
Lest  she  dyd  myscary, 

But  full  ofte  spake 
To  haste  the  woddynge 
And  all  for  boddynge, 

Some  sporte  to  make ;  100 

Her  herte  to  ease 
And  the  flesshe  to  please, 

Sorowos  to  asloke. 
In  it  out  joyenge 
That  wanton  plnyonge, 

For  the  olde  husbaudes  sake ; 
Yet  by  your  leue 
A  frere  dyd  she  gyue 

Of  her  loue  a  flake ; 

And  savil  in  hor  oucn  no 

At  any  manor  of  season, 


MAYD  EMLTN.  87 

That  he  sholde  bake, 
There  is  rome  ynowe, 
For  other  and  for  you, 

And  space  to  set  a  cake. 
The  seconde  husbande  Nycoll, 
That  pore  sely  soule, 
Myght  not  escape : 
A  kockolde  to  dye 
It  was  his  destenye,  120 

As  man  vnfortunate. 
His  wyfe  vndeuoute 
Ofte  wolde  go  aboute, 

And  steppe  ouer  many  a  lake ; 
Makynge  bost  in  her  mode, 
That  her  husbande  can  no  more  good 

Than  can  an  vntaught  ape. 
Thus  by  her  scole 
Made  hym  a  fole, 

And  called  hym  dodypate ;  130 

So  from  his  thryfte 
She  dyd  hym  lyfte, 

And  therof  crcste  the  date ; 
She  made  hym  sadde, 
And  sayd  he  was  badde, 

Croked  legged  lyke  a  stake ; 
She  lyked  not  his  face, 
And  sayd  he  mouthed  was 

Moost  lyke  an  hawke ; 
This  good  man  ease,  HO 

Was  lothe  to  dysplease, 
But  yet  thought  somwhat, 


88  THE  BOKE  OF 

Thynkynge  in  his  mynde, 
That  a  man  can  fynde 

A  wyfe  neuer  to  late ; 
For  of  theyr  properte 
Shrewes  all  they  be, 

And  style  can  they  prate. 
All  women  be  suche, 
Thoughe  the  man  bere  the  breche,  iso 

They  wyll  be  euer  checkemate. 
Faced  lyke  an  aungell, 
Tonged  lyke  a  deuyll  of  hell, 

Great  causers  of  debate ; 
They  loke  full  smothe, 
And  be  false  of  loue, 

Venymous  as  a  snake. 
Desyrynge  to  be  praysed, 
A  lofte  to  be  raysed, 

As  an  hyghe  estate ;  ieo 

And  these  wanton  dames 
Ofte  chaungeth  theyr  names, 

As  An,  Jane,  Besse  and  Kate. 
Thus  thynketh  he 
In  his  mynde  pryuely, 

And  nought  dare  saye ; 
For  he  that  is  maysterfast, 
Full  ofte  is  agast, 

And  dare  not  ronne  and  playe. 
If  she  be  gladde,  iio 

Than  is  he  sadde, 

And  fere  of  a  sodayne  fraye, 
For  womans  pryde 


MA  YD  EMLTN.  89 

Is  to  laughe  and  chyde, 

Euery  houre  in  a  daye. 
Whan  she  dothe  loure, 
And  begynneth  to  snowre, 

Pyteously  dothe  he  saye, 
What  do  ye  lacke  ? 
Ony  thynge,  swete  herte,  iso 

That  I  to  you  gyue  maye  ? 
She  answered  hym 
With  wordes  grotchynge, 

Wysshynge  her  selfe  in  claye, 
And  sayth  that  she  lackes 
Many  prety  knackes, 

As  bedes  and  gyrdels  gaye ; 
And  the  best  sporte 
That  sholde  me  comforte, 

Whiche  is  a  swete  playe,  190 

I  can  it  not  haue, 
For  so  God  me  saue, 

Thy  power  is  not  to  paye. 
There  is  nought, 
Nought  may  be  cought, 

I  can  no  more  saye ; 
Many  men  nowe  here 
Can  not  women  chere, 

But  maketh  ofte  delay ;  200 

The  wyfe  dothe  mone, 
It  is  not  at  home, 

And  borroweth  tyll  a  daye, 
What  it  is  I  trowe, 
Well  ynoughe  ye  knowe, 


90  THE  BOKE  OF 

It  is  no  nede  to  saye ; 
Thus  saye  the  wyues, 
If  theyr  hushandes  thryues, 

That  they  the  causers  be  ! 
They  gete  two  wayes, 
Bothe  with  worke  and  playes  210 

By  theyr  huswyuery. 
With  theyr  swete  lyppes, 
And  lusty  hyppes 

They  worke  so  plesauntly, 
Some  wyll  fall  anone, 
For  they  be  not  stronge, 

They  be  weyke  in  the  kne. 
Be  they  pore  or  be  they  ryche, 
I  beshrewe  all  suche, 

Amen,  nowe  saye  ye  ;  220 

They  thynke  it  is  as  great  almes, 
As  to  saye  the  seuen  psalmes, 

And  dothe  it  for  charyte. 
To  gete  gownes  and  furs, 
These  nysebeceturs, 

Of  men  sheweth  theyr  pyte, 
Somtyme  for  theyr  lust 
Haue  it  they  must, 

Or  seke  wyll  they  be ; 
If  it  do  stycke, 
And  she  fele  it  quycke,  230 

Full  slyle  dothe  she 
Begyn  for  to  grone, 
And  wyssheth  she  had  lyne  alone. 
What  ayleth  you  than  ?  sayth  he, 


MAYD  EMLTN.  91 

She  saythe,  syr  I  am  with  chylde, 
It  is  yours,  by  Mary  mylde  ! 

And  so  he  weneth  it  be. 
Whan  played  is  the  playe, 
Jacke  the  husbande  must  paye,  240 

This  dayly  may  ye  se. 
He  was  gladde  ywys, 
Of  that  that  is  not  his, 

And  dothe  it  vp  kepe  ; 
She  that  dothe  mocke  hym, 
Another  mannes  concubyne, 

And  hys  chylde  eke. 
Lo,  thus  dothe  landes 
Fall  in  wronge  ayres  handes, 

The  causers  may  well  wepe ;  250 

And  worse  dothe  happen  truely, 
The  broder  the  syster  dothe  mary, 

And  in  bedde  togyther  slepe. 
To  synne  lyghtely  wyll  the  chylde  drawe, 
That  is  bekoten  without  lawe, 

Wedlocke  is  veray  swete ; 
But  ones  for  all 
The  daye  come  shall, 

The  crye  shall  be  welawaye ; 
Of  all  wedlocke  brekers  260 

Thus  saythe  greate  prechers, 

Theyr  dettes  shall  they  truely  paye. 
All  they  that  dothe  oifende, 
God  graunt  them  to  amende, 

And  therfore  lette  vs.  praye. 
But  nowe  of  Emlyne  to  speke, 


92  THE  BOKE  OF 

And  more  of  her  to  treate, 

Truely  for  to  saye, 

Whan  the  seconde  husbande  was  dede, 
The  thyrde  husbande  dyde  she  wedde       270 

In  full  goodly  araye. 
But  as  the  deuyll  wolde, 
Or  the  pyes  were  colde, 

Fell  a  sodayne  fraye  ; 
Moyses  had  a  newe  brother, 
It  wolde  be  none  other, 

And  all  came  throughe  playe. 
But  mayde  maydenhode  myssynge 
Knoweth  what  longeth  to  kyssynge, 

It  is  no  nede  to  saye.  280 

She  loued  well  I  trowe, 
And  gaue  hym  sorowe  ynowe, 

But  ones  on  the  daye, 
With  hym  wolde  she  chyde, 
He  durst  not  loke  asyde, 

The  bounde  must  euer  obaye. 
This  man  was  olde 
And  of  compleccyon  colde, 

Nothynge  lusty  to  playe ; 
She  was  full  ranke, 
And  of  condycyons  cranke,  290 

And  redy  was  alwaye ; 
In  Venus  toyes 
Was  all  her  joyes, 

Seldome  sayde  she  naye ; 
At  the  laste  she  thought, 
That  her  husbande  was  nought, 


MATD  EMLYN.  93 

And  purposed  on  a  daye 
To  shorten  his  lyfe, 
And  as  a  true  wyfe,  300 

She  wolde  it  not  delaye. 
To  fulfyU  her  lust, 
In  a  well  she  hym  thrust, 

Without  any  fraye : 
And  made  countenaunce  sad 
As  thoughe  she  be  sory  had, 

Also  in  good  faye. 
A  reed  onyon  wolde  she  kepe, 
To  make  her  eyes  wepe, 

In  her  kerchers  I  saye.  310 

She  was  than  stedfast  and  stronge, 
And  kepte  her  a  wydowe  veraye  longe, 

In  faythe  almoost  two  dayes ; 
Bycause  she  made  greate  mone, 
She  wolde  not  lye  longe  alone, 

For  fere  of  sodayne  frayes  ; 
Leste  her  husbande  dede 
Wolde  come  to  her  bedde, 

Thus  in  her  mynde  she  sayes. 
The  fourthe  husbande  she  cought, 
That  was  lyke  her  nexte  nought,  320 

For  he  vsed  his  playes, 
With  maydens,  wyues  and  nonnes, 
None  amysse  to  hym  commes, 

Lyke  they  be  of  layes ; 
Hym  she  lyked  yll, 
She  prayed  the  fende  hym  kyll, 

Bycause  he  vsed  her  wayes : 


94  TEE  BOKE  OF 

This  mannes  name  was  Harry, 

He  coude  full  clene  cary,  330 

He  loued  prety  gayes. 
So  it  happened  at  the  last, 
An  halfepeny  halter  made  hym  fast, 

And  therin  he  swayes. 
Than  she  toke  great  thought, 
As  a  woman  that  careth  nought, 

So  for  his  soule  she  prayes. 
And  bycause  she  was  seke, 
She  wedded  the  same  weke, 

For  very  pure  pyte  and  wo.  240 

Yet,  or  she  was  wedded, 
Thryse  had  she  bedded, 

And  great  hast  made  therto. 
The  husbande  had  sone  ynowe, 
But  Emlyn  bended  her  browe, 
And  thought  she  had  not  so, 
But  to  ease  her  louer 
She  toke  another, 

That  lustely  coude  do ; 
One  that  yonge  was, 
That  coude  ofte  her  basse,  350 

Whiche  she  had  fantesy  to. 
He  coude  well  awaye 
With  her  lusty  playe, 

And  neuer  wolde  haue  do. 

Bycause  he  coude  clepe  her, 

She  called  hym  a  whypper  ; 

And  as  they  were  togyder 

They  bothe  swetely  played ; 


MAYD  EMLYN.  95 

A  sergeaunt  them  afrayed,  seo 

And  sayd  they  were  full  queuer. 
They  were  than  full  wo, 
The  frere  wolde  ben  a  go, 

He  cursed  that  he  came  thyder ; 
Whether  they  were  leue  or  lothe, 
He  set  them  in  the  stockes  bothe, 

He  wolde  none  dysceyuer. 
In  myddes  of  the  market 
Full  well  was  set, 

In  full  fayre  wether,  370 

For  it  dyd  hayle  and  thonder ; 
On  them  many  men  dyd  wonder, 

But  Emlyne  laughed  ever ; 
She  thought  it  but  a  jape, 
To  se  men  at  her  gape, 

Therof  she  shamed  neuer ; 
And  sayd  for  her  sportynge, 
It  is  but  for  japynge, 

That  we  be  brought  hyder ; 
It  is  nother  treason  nor  felony, 
But  a  knacke  of  company,  sso 

And  dye  had  I  leuer 
Than  it  forsake, 
For  I  wyll  mery  make, 

Whyle  youthe  hathe  fayre  wether. 
Whan  her  husbande  it  knewe, 
Sore  dyd  he  it  rewe, 

And  was  so  heuy  and  wo, 
He  toke  a  surfet  with  a  cup, 
That  made  hym  tourne  his  heels  vp,  390 


96      THE  BOKE  OF  MA  YD  EMLYN. 

And  than  was  he  a  go. 
And  whan  she  was  at  large, 
Care  she  dyde  dyscharge, 

And  in  her  mynde  thought  tho  ; 
Nowe  wyll  I  haue  my  luste, 
With  all  them  that  wyll  juste, 

In  spyte  of  them  that  say  the  so, 
And  bycause  she  loued  rydynge, 
At  the  stewes  was  her  abydynge,  400 

Without  wordes  mo  ; 
And  all  that  wolde  entre, 
She  durst  on  them  ventre, 

Veray  gentyll  she  was,  lo  ! 
And  longe  or  she  were  dede, 
She  wente  to  begge  her  brede, 

Suche  fortune  had  she  tho. 
God  dyd  bete  her  surely 
With  the  rodde  of  pouerte, 

Or  she  dyd  hens  go. 
Than  she  dyed,  as  ye  shall, 
But  what  of  her  dyde  befall,  410 

Naye  there  do  I  ho  ; 
But  they  that  rede  this  erly  or  late, 
I  praye  Jesu  theyr  soules  take, 

Amen,  saye  ye  also. 


Imptgntrtr  at  fLoirtron  toitfjout  Jictoegate,  in 

$ulfeers  ^argissje,  fcg  me 
Ifojn  Jofcot,  fctoellgnge  m 
tje 


of 


HERE  begynneth  a  lytell   boke  named  the  Scole  howse, 
wherein  euery  man  may  rede  a  goodly  prayse  of  the 
condycyons  of  women.     In  seven-line  star  zas.     R.  Wyer,  n.  d. 
8vo. 

Herbert's  Ames,  fol.  375;  he  copies  Ames;  and  Dibdin 
(iii.  181)  copies  him. 

Here  begynneth  a  lytle  boke  named  the  Schnle  house  of  women  : 
wherin  euery  man  may  rede  a  goodly  prayse  of  the  condicyons  of 
women.  The  yeare  of  our  I^orde.  MDXLI. 

The  colophon  is — 

Explicit. 

Prynted  at  London  in  Paules  Churche  yearde,  at  the  sygne  of  the 
maydens  heed,  by  Thomas  Petyt.    MDLXI.    8vo.    D  2,  in  fours. 

Here  Begynneth  the  Scole-house  of  women :  wherein  every  man 
may  reade  a  goodly  prayse  of  the  condicyons  of  women.  Anno 
Domini  MDLX. 

This  title  is  in  an  architectural  compartment  and  the  ini 
tials  T.  R.,  possibly  those  of  the  artist,  are  in  the  centre  at  the 
bottom.  The  colophon  is — 

Imprinted  at  London  in  Paules  Churcheyarde  at  the  Sygne  of 
the  Swanne  by  John  Kyng.  4to. 

Heer  beginneth  the  Schole  House  of  Women,  wherin  euery  man 
may  read  a  goodly  lesson  of  the  condicions  of  Women,  Anno 
Domini  M.D.  [sic]  1572.  [Col.]  Imprinted  at  London  at 
the  long  shop,  adioyning  vnto  Saint  Mildreds  'Church  in  the  Pultrie 
by  John  Allde,  1572.  4to. 

VOL.  IV.  H 


98  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

These  four  editions  are  all  of  great  scarcity.  Of  that  of  1572 
there  is  a  copy  among  Selden's  books  in  the  Bodleian ;  and  Mr. 
Utterson  reprinted  it  in  his  Select  Pieces  of  Early  Popular  Poetry 
in  1817.  The  present  text  is  formed  from  a  collation  of  the  ed. 
of  1572  with  that  printed  by  King  twelve  years  before,  which 
has  supplied  a  few  better  readings  here  and  there.  Warton  in 
his  History  (iii.  426,  ed.  1824),  explicitly  states  that  there  was 
an  edition  of  the  Schole  House  of  Women  from  the  press  of  Robert 
Wyer  in  1542,  and  he  quotes  the  title  as  it  has  been  given 
above,  substituting,  however,  prayer  for  prayse;  which  seems 
too  circumstantial  a  description  of  the  volume  to  allow  us  to 
suppose,  that  he  was  merely  speaking,  as  he  so  often  does, 
at  random.  Warton's  "Prayer"  is,  it  is  true,  an  error  for 
"  Prayse ;"  but  it  is  not  unlikely  that  the  book  was  in  the 
hands  of  a  friend,  and  that  the  mistake  was  committed  by  the 
latter,  who  copied  the  title  too  carelessly ;  or  it  is  by  no  means 
impossible  that  Warton  himself,  having  been  allowed  to  inspect 
the  production,  was  guilty  of  this  oversight.  Wyer's  edition 
may  still  be  in  existence,  but  it  has  never  been  heard  of.1 

But  whoever  was  the  first  publisher  of  the  Schole  House,  it  is 
readily  susceptible  of  proof  that  the  tract  was  in  print,  when 
(after  1541)  Edward  Gosynhyll  put  forth  his  "  Prayse  of  all 
Women,  called  Mulierum  Pean  : "  for  in  the  latter,  the  author 
says:— 

"  A  wake,  they  sayde ;  slepe  not  so  fast : 
Consyder  our  grefe,  and  how  we  be  blamed ; 
And  all  by  a  boke  that  lately  is  past, 
Whyche  by  report,  by  the  was  fyrst  framed, 
The  scale  of  women,  none  auctour  named  : 
In  prynte  it  is  passed,  lewdely  compyled, 
All  women  wherby  be  sore  revyled." 

Whoever  reported,  however,  that  Gosynhyll  had  written  the 
Scale  of  Women,  reported  what  was  not  true,  as  we  have  at 
tempted  to  explain  elsewhere. 


1  Dibdin,  in  his  edition  of  Herbert,  evidently  knew  no  more 
of  the  impression  by  Wyer  than  he  found  in  Warton. 


OF  WOMEN.  99 

Again,  Bansley,  in  his  "  Treatyse  shewing  and  declaring  the 
pryde  and  abuse  of  Women  now  a  dayes,"  printed  about  1550,  or 
at  least,  some  time  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI  (1547-53),  has 
the  following  apparent  allusion  to  the  present  work : — 
"  The  scole  house  of  women  is  nowe  well  practysed, 

And  to  moche  put  in  ure ; 
Whych  maketh  manye  a  mans  hayre  to  growe 
Thorowe  his  hoode,  you  may  be  verye  sure." 

We  have  used  the  term  "  apparent  allusion,"  because  we  do  not 
think  that  this  passage,  taken  by  itself,  would  be  sufficient  to 
establish  the  pre-existence  of  Gosynhyll's  book :  for  works  in 
popular  literature  were  frequently  entitled  from  fashionable  cant, 
or  current  proverbial  expressions,  as  is  the  case  even  now,  and  it 
is  far  from  improbable  that  the  Schole  or  Schole-house  of  Women 
was  in  vogue  as  a  phrase,  before  Gosynhyll  adopted  it  as  the 
title  to  his  lucubration,  and  that,  in  fact,  its  familiarity  to  the 
public  ear  recommended  it  to  him  or  to  his  publisher. 

It  will  be  observed  that,  in  the  copy  which  is  given  above  of 
the  title  of  Petyt's  edition,  there  is  an  important  discrepancy,  the 
title  bearing  the  date  of  1541,  and  the  colophon  that  of  1561. 
Such  mistakes  are  not  uncommon  in  old  books,  and  in  the  pre 
sent  instance,  we  are  disposed,  contrary  to  the  opinion  of  some 
bibliographers,  to  assign  the  appearance  of  Petyt's  impression 
to  the  earlier  year.  The  volume  was  evidently  the  property  of 
John  Kyng  in  1560,  and  it  is  more  than  doubtful  whether  Petyt 
printed  later  than  1554.1 

1  Herbert,  in  his  enlarged  and  improved  edition  of  Ames, 
mentions  no  book  from  the  press  of  Petyt  later  than  1 554.  In 
Dibdin's  additions  to  Herbert  a  volume  occurs,  supposed  to  have 
been  printed  by  him  in  1555,  so  that  if  the  date  on  the  colophon 
of  the  Schole-house  of  Women  is  to  be  received  as  correct,  one  of 
two  very  improbable  suppositions  must  be  admitted,  namely, 
either  that  Petyt  suspended  business  for  six  or  seven  years,  and 
then  resumed  it  for  the  purpose  of  executing  one  book,  or  that  all 
the  books  printed  by  him  between  1554  or  1555  and  1561  have 
disappeared,  leaving  no  trace  whatever  behind  them.  We  think, 
on  the  whole,  that  the  date  on  the  title  must  be  sustained. 


100  THE  SCffOLE-HOUSE 

In  1557,1  Edward  More,  of  Hambledon,  co.  Bucks,  a  young 
man  under  twenty  years  of  age,  was  provoked  by  the  publi 
cation  of  the  "  Schole-house  of  Women  "  to  a  vindication  of  the 
calumniated  sex,  which  did  not  come  from  the  press,  however, 
till  1560.  More's  book  bears  the  ensuing  title:— "A  lytle  & 
bryefe  Treatyse  called  the  defence  of  women,  and  especially  of 
Englyshe  Women,  made  agaynste  the  Schole  howse  of  Women. 
Anno  Domini  M.D.LX.  Imprinted  at  London  in  Paules  churche 
yarde  at  the  signe  of  the  Swane  by  John  Kynge,"  4to.  black 
letter.  It  was  reprinted,  in  an  imperfect  and  careless  manner, 
in  Select  Pieces  of  Early  Popular  Poetry,  1817  ;  but  it  was  not 
thought  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  present  collection,  as  it  is 
assuredly  one  of  the  most  prosaic  compositions  in  the  language. 
It  will  be  found,  indeed,  as  a  general  rule,  that  the  treatises, 
which  were  intended  as  diatribes  and  invectives  against  the 
female  sex,  are  far  more  entertaining,  and  contain  far  better 
writing,  than  those  published  on  the  other  side  of  the  question. 
They  were  also,  if  a  ballad-writer  of  the  day  may  be  credited, 
more  popular  and  acceptable  to  the  reading  public.  In  his 
Crown  Garland  of  Goulden  Roses,  1612,  Richard  Johnson  has  a 
"  Song  in  Praise  and  Dispraise  of  Women,"  which  commences 
as  follows : — 

"  Women  to  praise  who  taketh  in  hand, 

A  number  shall  displease ; 
But  who  so  doth  them  most  dispraise, 

Doth  most  live  at  their  ease." 

More  was  not  the  only  champion  of  the  ladies  against  their 
'  unmannerly  assailant.  On  the  27th  May,  1560,  John  Allde 
paid  fourpence  for  the  right  to  print  "a  ballett2  called  the  de 
fence  agaynst  them  that  commonly  defame  women,"  and  other 
pieces  of  the  same  kind  possibly  existed  at  one  time,  though  no 
longer  known. 

1  He  dates  his  book:  "From  Hambleden,  the  xx.  day  of 
Julye,  M.D.LVjj ; "  so  that  it  was  not  in  answer  to  King's 
edition  of  the  Schole  House,  as  has  been  generally  held. 

2  Could  this  be  More's  book  itself,  miscalled  a  ballad  by  the 
clerk  ?      Fourpence  was,  however,  very  little  for  a  volume  of 
such  bulk. 


OF   WOMEN.  101 

There  is  ground  for  the  belief,  that  King  issued  an  edition  of 
the  Schole  House  prior  to  that  of  1560 :  for  his  licence  for  it  was 
obtained  in  1557-8.  See  Mr.  Collier's  Extracts,  i.  3. 

There  is  a  rather  apt  illustration  of  the  use  of  the  term 
"  scholehouse,"  in  a  sense  in  which  it  occurs  here,  to  be  found  in 
Weever's  Funerall  Monuments,  1631,  p.  11,  where  that  writer 
says : — "  Besides,  if  one  shall  seriously  suruay  the  Tombeg 
erected  in  these  our  dayes,  and  examine  the  particulars  of  the 
personages  wrought  vpon  their  Tombes,  hee  may  easily  discerne 
the  vanity  of  our  mindes,  vailed  vnder  our  fantasticke  habits  and 
attires,  which  in  time  to  come  will  be  rather  prouocations  to 
vice  then  incitatious  to  vertue,  and  so  the  Temple  of  God  shall 
become  a  Schoolehouse  of  the  monstrous  habits  and  attires  of  our 
present  age — " 

The  woodcut  found  in  Mr.  Utterson's  work  is  not  in  any  of 
the  original  editions. 


eer 

net!)  tl)e§>cJ)oleJ)oufe 

il|l.:     £>f  SCtomen 

|1   tofjerm  euerp  man 
reati  a  gooti 

ippratfeoftlje 
contritions 


of 
men. 


ANNO  DOMINI 
M.D.  1572. 


HE  prouerb  olde  whoso  denieth, 
In  my  conceit  doth  greatly  erre  : 
Bothe  wit  and  discrescion  il  he  applieth, 
That  thing  of  truthe  would  debarre ; 
How  beit  that  folke  presume  so  far, 
Wherby  the  truthe  is  often  blamed, 
Yet  in  no  wise  truthe  may  be  shamed. 
1[  A  foole  of  late l  contriued  a  book, 

1  The  context  shows  pretty  clearly  that  the  "  foole"  here  in 
tended  was  no  other  than  Edward  Gosynhill,  author  of  "  The 
Prayse  of  All  Women,  called  Mulierum  Pean,"  printed  by  W. 
Mydylton,  n.  d.  4to,  and  reprinted  by  John  King,  n.  d.  Svo.  We 
are  afraid  that  Mr.  Collier  (Extracts  from  the  Registers  of  the 
Stationers'  Company,  i.  3)  too  hastily  adopted  the  impression  that 
Gosynhill  was  also  the  author  of  the  Schole-house  of  Women,  on 
the  strength  of  a  passage,  in  the  former  work,  in  which  Gosyn 
hill  intimates  that  it  was  ascribed  to  him  by  report.  In  the  Hit- 
lierum  Paean  are  some  lines,  in  which  he  claims  the  authorship 
of  that  piece  (the  Paean)  in  much  more  positive  terms: — 
"  If  question  be  moved  who  is  thine  authour, 

Be  not  adrad  to  utter  his  name : 
Say  Edwarde  Gosynhyll  toke  the  labour 

For  womanhede  thee  for  to  frame." 

It  is  difficult  to  explain  how  an  allusion  to  the  Paean  could  find 
its  way  into  a  tract  printed  previously  to  the  Penan,  unless  we 
suppose  that  Gosynhill  was  dead  when  the  later  editions  of  the 
Sco/ehouse  of  Women  came  from  the  press,  and  that  somebody,  not 
very  friendly  to  the  original  writer,  introduced  variations  into 
the  text.  We  have  never  been  able  to  meet  with  the  first  and 
second  editions,  printed  by  Wyer  and  Petit. 


106  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

And  all  in  praise  of  the  femynie ; 

Who  so  taketh  labour  it  to  ouer  look,  10 

Shall  prooue  all  is  but  flattery ; 

Pehan  he  calleth  it :  it  may  wel  be, 

The  pecock  is  proudest  of  his  faire  taile, 

And  so  ar  all  women  of  their  apparail. 

^[  Wherfore  as  now  in  this  treatise, 
What  so  be  said  in  rude  sentence, 
Vertue  to  increace,  and  to  lay  vice, 
Is  cheef  occasion  of  my  pretence ; 
And  where  that  trueth  is,  is  none  offence ; 
Who  so  therfore  that  blameth  me,  20 

I  say  he  deemeth  wrongfully. 

•fl"  Perchaimce  the  women  take  displeasure, 
Bycause  I  rub  them  on  the  gall ; 
To  them  that  good  be,  paraduenture, 
It  shall  not  bee  materiall. 
The  other  sorte,  no  force1  at  all, 
Say  what  they  wil,  or  bendeth  the  brew. 
Them  selues  shall  prooue  my  saying2  true. 

IT  Eche  other  man  in  generall, 
And,  namely,3  those  that  maried  be,  so 

Giue  euident  testimoniall, 
Affirming  the  same,  if  I  would  ly, 
And  thus  reporte,  that  feminy 
Been  euel  to  please,  and  wore  to  trust, 

1  No  force  is  often  used,  as  here,  in  the  sense  of  no  matter, 
it  does  not  signify. 

2  So  King's  ed.     Allde's  ed.  has  sayings. 

3  i.e.  particularly. 


OF  WOMEN.  107 

Crabbed  and  combrous,  when  them  self  lust ; 

1f  Haue  tung  at  large,  voice  loud  and  shril, 
Of  words  wounderous  passing  store, 
Stomacke  stout,  with  froward  wil, 
And,  namely,  when  you  touch  the  sore 
With  one  bare  word,  or  litle  more,  40 

They  flush  and  flame  as  hote1  as  fire, 
And  swel  as  a  tode  for  faruent2  ire. 

^1  And  when  they  hear  one  word  that  soudeth 
[A]3  little  against  their  lewd  behauiour, 
And  twise  so  muche  els,  which  y*  redoundeth 
To  their  high  praise,  ye  maybe  sure, 
So  light  of  eare  they  be  and  sowre, 
That  of  the  better  they  neuer  record, 
The  worse  reherce  they  word  by  word. 

^[  It  were  much  hurt  for  to  discry 
The  properties  all  of  the  feminy  kinde ;  so 

How  be  it  a  man  may  coniecture  ny, 
And  say  also,  as  experience  doth  binde, 
That  very  few  ther  be  to  finde, 
But  that  they  can,  how  so  euer  the  matter  stand, 
Beare  fire  and  water  bothe  in  one  hand. 

^[  Enuasions  they  haue  both  faint  and  feeble 
Them  to  excuse  of  duplicity  ; 
As  though  they  were  inuincible 
Spotted  in  any  wise  to  be ; 

And  with  othes  so  craftely  60 

They  shalbe  forged  on  such  a  ground, 
As  all  things  were  bothe  whole  and  sound. 

1  Hot.  8  Fervent.  3  Old  eds.  have  Little. 


108  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

^[  And  be  it  ernest,  or  els  in  jape, 
Lo  !  to  them  it  is  one  maner  of  thing ; 
Surely  nought  els  they  after  gape, 
But  euer  more  in  conning,1 
To  let2  a  man  of  his  saying ; 
Keason  wil  they  not  attend, 
But  tel  their  owne  tale  to  the  end : 

IT  And  [truth]  for  to  say,  moste  commonly     70 
This  vice  is  appropriat  to  them  all ; 
For  let  a  man  to  them  replye, 
In  resoning  of  matters  small, 
These  women  be  so  sensuall, 
That  be3  their  reason  not  worth  a  t — de, 
.  Yet  wil  the  woman  haue  the  last  woord. 

1T  There  may  no  reason  theirs  debar, 
Nor  none  example  can  them  conuert, 
They  study  allgate4  to  be  at  war, 
And  with  euel  sawes  to  be  ouerthwart ; 
Malice  is  so  rooted  in  their  hart,  so 

That  seldome  a  man  may  of  them  hear 
One  good  woord  in  a  whole  long  yeer. 

IT  All  beit,  the  number  of  them  be5  great, 
Yet  dooth  their  foly  far  exceed : 
For  all  is  fish  that  commeth  to  net ; 
In  case  that  they  of  their  minde  speed, 
Brooch,  ring,  cloth  or  threed, 
Shame  haue  they  none  to  ter[e]  or  snatch : 


1  Old  eds.  read  camming.  2  Old  eds.  read  tel. 

3  King's  ed.  reads  by.  *  Always. 

5  King's  ed.  has  are. 


OF  WOMEN.  109 

All  is  their  owne  that  they  may  catch. 

5F  What  so  it  be  they  finger  once,  90 

Of  wedded  man  or  single,  plain, 
He  may  as  soon  eat  the  adamant  stone1 
As  the  self  same  of  them  to  retain ; 
Much  they  craue  and  nought  giue  again. 
As  hoi  some  for  a  man  is  a  womans  corse, 
As  a  shoulder  of  mutton  for  a  sick  horse, 

1F  And  yet  we  may  not  them  long  misse, 
For  many  sundry  commodities  ; 
So  trick  a  way  they  haue  to  kisse  100 

With  open  mouth  and  rowling  eyes, 
Tung  to  tung  disclose  thies ; 
One  and  other  commonly 
Haue  in  such  case  like  propertie, 

^F  That  hard  it  were,  in  mine  opinion, 
If  God  him  self  would  company  keep, 
But  they  would  bring  him  vpon  2 
Waking  or  els  a  sleep. 
Displease  them  once,  and  then  they  weep, 
By  meane  wherof  sone  doo  they3  cure  4  no 

Yung  fooles  to  keep  long  in  vre.5 

If  And  while  the  wooing  time  dooth  last, 
I  meane  with  them  that  maidens  be, 
Loth  to  displease,  looue  sure  and  fast, 
Axe  what  ye  wil,  and  speed  may  ye  ; 

1  So  King's  ed.     Allde's  ed.  has  stones. 

2  i.  e.  accompany  Him.     See  the  new  ed.  of  Nares  in  voce, 
with  the  two  examples  there  given  of  this  use  of  the  phrase. 

3  Old  eds.  have  dooth  the.  4  i.  e.  to  take  care. 
5  Use,  service. 


110  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

Few  or  none,  for  the  moste  partye, 
Gently  entreated,  deny  you  can 
Within  her  tables  to  enter  your  man. 

f  That  doon,  they  say  that  ye  did  make 
Promise  to  them  by  good  assuraunce  120 

Them  to  mary  and  to  wiues  take, 
Els  had  ye  not  had  such  daliaunce ; 
And  all  is  for  fear  of  good  vtteraunce. 
In  case  the  belly  doo  not  swell, 
They  holde  them  pleasd,  and  all  is  well. 

1T  Yet  must  ye  be  at  farther  daunger, 
If  ye  doo  intend  to  vse  them  oft ; 
Keep  them  bothe  at  rack  and  maimger,1 
Aray  them  well,  and  lay  them  soft. 
Yet  shall  another  man  come  aloft :  130 

Haue  you  once  turned  your  eye  and  back, 
An  other  she  wil  haue  to  smick  and  smack. 

IF  Perchaunce  the  belly  may  rise  with  all, 
Then  wil  they  stare  and  swere  a  pace?. 
That  thine  is  it.     When  it  dooth  fall, 
Be  it  malary  borne  or  base, 
Looke,  they  say,  on  thine  owne  face ; 
Beholde  wel  bothe  nose  and  iye, 
Nature  it  self  the  father  wil  trye. 

IT  An  other  ther  is  to  singuler  grace  HO 

1  To  indulge  in  them  in  all  their  extravagant  tastes — 

"  Feare  not  a  shaddow,  but  auoid  a  daunger : 
And  keepe  not  a  iade  at  rack  &  raaunger." 

Uncasing  of  Machivils  Instructions  to  his 
Sonne,  1613,  p.  25. 

2  Old  eds.  read  swere  and  stare. 


OF   WOMEN.  Ill 

Giuen  vnto  the  babe  for  the  one, 
Or  sure  it  is  a  meruelous  face 
That  God  hath  giuen  vnto  the  mone,1 
For  were  they  xx.  they  must  each  one, 
Look  they  straight,  either  els  a  shore,2 
Be  like  the  father  lesse  and  more. 

1f  And  when  they  are  once  waxen  small, 
And  able  to  ride,  or  els  to  go, 
Unto  like  act  againe  they  fall, 
As  who  would  say  you  felt  no  wo  ;  150 

Yf  ye  renounce  kindnes  to  sho, 
Then  must  ye  send  the  to  sum  straung  place, 
As  good  a  maid  as  she  before  was. 

11  Then  if  there  come  a  loouer  new, 
And  them  appoynt  whether  to  come, 
They  be  like  ready  vnto  the  mew, 
And  to  be  close  from  wind  and  sun, 
With  litle  labour  they  ar  soon  wonne ; 
Not  one  I  warrant  you  amongs  twentye, 
But  she  eft  soones  wil  be  as  redy.  IGO 

1F  Wed  them  once,  and  then  adue, 
Farwel  all  trust  and  huswifery ; 
Keep  their  chambers  and  them  self  mew, 
For  staining  of  their  fisnamy,3 

1  Many. 

2  This  word  is  still  used  in  the  West  of  England  in  the  sense 
of  awry,  or  on  one  side. 

3  Physiognomy. 

"  He  feyed  his  fisnamye 
With  his  foule  hondez, 
And  frappez  faste  at  hys  face 
Fersely  theraftyre." 

Morte  Arthure,  ed.  1847,  p.  94. 


112  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

And  in  their  bed  all  day  doo  lye ; 
Must,  once  or  twise  euery  week, 
Fain  them  self  for  to  be  sick. 

11  Send  for  this,  and  send  for  that, 
Little  or  nothing  may  them  please  ; 
Come  in,  good  gossip,  and  keep  me  chat,          170 
I  trust  it  shall  do  me  great  ease ; 
Complain  of  many  a  sundry  disease ; 
A  gossips  cup  between  vs  twain, 
Til  we  be  gotten  vp  again. 

IF  Then  must  she  haue  maidens  two  or  three, 
That  may  then  gossips  togither  bring  ; 
Set  them  to  labour  to  blere  the  eye, 
Them  self  wil  neither  wash  ne  wring, 
Bake  ne  brue,  nor  any  thing, 
Sit  by  the  fire,  let  the  maidens  trot,  iso 

Brew  of  the  best  in  a  halfpeny  pot. 

11  Play  who  wil,  the  man  must  labour, 
And  bring  to  house  all  that  he  may ; 
The  wife  again  dooth  nought  but  glauour, 
And  holde  him  vp  with  yea  and  nay ; 
But  of  her  cup  he  shall  not  assay, 
Other1  she  saith,  it  is  to  thin, 
Or  els,  iwis,  there  is  nothing  in. 

IT  And  when  these  gossips  are  once  met, 
Of  euery  tale  and  new  tiding  100 

They  bable  fast,  and  nothing  forget, 
They  put,  "  I  warrant,"  between  each  thing  ;'-' 


1  Either. 

*  Old  ed.  repeats,  clearly  in  error,  tiding,  the  compositor's  eye 


OF  WOMEN.  113 

Thus  learne  the  yunger  of  the  elders  guiding, 
Day  bj  day  keeping  such  Scooles, 
The  simple  men  they  make  as  fooles. 

IF  Them  selues  alway  do  make  good  cheer, 
With  one  or  other  they  neuer  rest : 
Our  John  shall  pay,  is  that l  not  best  ? 
How  say  ye,  gossip,  is  it  not  best  ? 
I  beshrew  his  hart  now,  is  he  blest !  200 

He  beat  me,  gossip,  I  may  tel  you, 
That  yet  I  am  bothe  black  and  blew. 
1T  Thus  out  it  shall,  what  so  it  be, 
Good  or  bad,  all  is  one  thing, 
"Who  so  euer  commeth  to  memory, 
Shall  not  he  look  for  the  telling  ? 
God  wot  they  make  many  a  leasing;2 
It  dooth  their  stomacks  greatly  ease 
To  serue  what  may  their  husbands  displease. 

1T  The  yung  complaineth  vnto  the  olde,         210 
Somewhat  to  ease  their  harts  therby : 
The  elder  saith :  good  gossip,  be  bolde 
To  shew  your  minde  wholy  to  me  ; 
Fear  it  not ;  ye  knowe,  pardy, 
That  I  haue  been  bothe  olde  and  yung, 
Bothe  close  and  sure  of  taile  and  tung. 

IT  Then  saith  the  yunger :  I  may  tel  you 
I  am  so  matched  as  no  woman  is ; 
Of  all  this  night,  til  the  cock  crew, 
He  would  not  once  turn  me  for  to  kisse ;  220 

Euery  night  he  riseth  for  to  p — sse, 

1  Old  eds.  have  that  is.  2  Lie. 

VOL.  IV.  I 


114  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

And  when  he  commeth  again  vnwarme 
Booth  turn  his  a — se  into  my  barme ; l 

1F  Lappeth  him  self  round  all  about, 
And  thrusteth  me  out  of  my  place, 
Leueth  me  scantly  one  rag  or  clout 
To  couer  and  cast  ouer  my  face. 
Ful  little  maner,  gossop,  he  base  ; 
The  moste  vnkindest  man  haue  I 
That  euer  woman  laid  her  by.  230 

1F  And  be  the  day  neuer  so  long, 
He  dooth  nothing  but  chide  and  brawle : 
Yea,  yea,  gossip,  the  more  is  my  wrong, 
W  .  .  .  .  and  harlot  he  dooth  me  call, 
And  bids  me,  gossip,  scrape  and  scrall, 
And  for  my  lining  labour  and  svvete 
For  as  of  him  no  peny  I  get. 

1F  I  was  a  curst,  or  els  stark  mad, 
And  when  I  maried  with  him  vn  wise ; 
I  may  tel  you,  I  might  haue  had  240 

Another  maner  of  man  then  he  is  : 
If  I  had  folowed  my  freends  aduise, 
I  should  haue  had  a  minion, 
A  man  of  land,  a  gentleman. 

1F  The  Deuil,  gossip,  ought  me  a  shame, 
And  paid  I  am  now  euery  peny. 
I  would  God  he  had  been  blinde  and  lame 
The  day  and  houre  he  first  wooed  me. 
Were  not,  gossip,  [for]  these  Children  three, 
I  would  not  tary,  ye  may  be  sure,  250 


Lap. 


OF  WCMEfl.  115 

Longer  with  him  day  ne  houre. 

IT  Then  said  the  elder :  doo  as  I  doo, 
Be  sharp  and  quick  with  him  again ; 
If  that  hee  chide,  chide  you  also, 
And  for  one  woord  giue  him  twain, 
Keep  him  short  and  haue  disdain ; 
Should  he1  use  you  after  such  a  rate, 
Bid  him  be  stil  with  an  euel  date. 

IF  Cherish  your  self  all  that  you  may, 
And  draw  vnto  good  company ;  200 

Cast  not  yourself,  gossip,  away, 
Because  he  playeth  the  churle  with  thee ; 
And  by  your  wil  keep  him  hungry, 
And  bid  him  go,  when  he  would  game, 
Unto  his  customers.     God  giue  him  shame  ! 

IF  Be  even2  with  him  at  yea  and  nay, 
And  by  your  wil  begin  the  war ; 
If  he  would  smite,  then  may  you  say  : 
Go  to  hardely,  if  thou  dare  ; 
I  beshrewe  thy  hart  [and]  if  thou  spare,  270 

All  the  world  shall  wunder  on  thee, 
How  thou  doost  wreke  thy  teen  of  me. 

1F  Because  thou  hast  been  at  the  dise, 
And  played  away  all  that  thou  hast, 
Or  from  thy  gillots  thou  couldst  not  arise, 
Of  all  this  day  ye  sat  so  fast, 
And  now  God  giue  the  shame  at  last, 
Commest  drunken  home  with  a  mischeef, 

1  Old  eds.  have  He  should. 
3  Old  eds.  have  ever. 


116  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

And  wouldst  be  reuenged  vpon  thy  wife  ! 

1T  Better,  iwis,  to  holde  thy  hand,  280 

And  more  for  thine  honestye. 

I  had  leuer  thy  neck  were  in  a  band, 

Then  I  would  take  it  long  of  thee  ; 

Trust  me,  I  wil  finde  remedye : 

Smite,  and  thou  dare,  I  make  God  auow, 

I  wil  quite  it,  I  wot  wel  how. 
1F  In  case  there  be  no  remedye, 

But  that  you  must  haue  strokes  sad,1 

Take  vp  the  babe  that  then  is  nye, 

Be  it  wench,  or  be  it  lad,2  290 

And  bid  him  strike,  if  he  be  mad : 

Smite  hardly,  and  kil  thy  Sonne, 

And  hang  therfore,  when  thou  hast  doon. 

IF  Thus  euer  among  they  keep  such  schooles, 
The  yung  to  drawe  after  the  olde, 
Meeting  euer  vpon  their  stooles, 
Of  euery  matter  that  they  haue  would, 
By  meane  wherof  the  yung  wax  bolde ; 
So  that  within  a  month  they  be 
Quarter  maister,  or  more  then  he.  300 

1T  Truely  some  men  there  be 
That  line  alway  in  great  honour, 
And  say :  it  gooeth  by  destenye 
To  hang  or  wed : 3  bothe  haue  but  one  houre ; 

1  Serious,  i.  e.  strokes  or  blows  meant  in  earnest.  See  Nares, 
voce  Sad.  2  i.  e.  Be  it  a  boy  or  a  girl. 

3  The  old  proverb.  Richard  Lant  had  a  licence  in  1558  to 
print  a  ballad  entitled :  "  The  Prouerbe  is  true  yc  weddynge  is 
destyne.' 


OF  WOMEN.  117 

And  whether  it  be,  I  am  well  sure 
Hanging  is  the  better  of  the  twain, 
Sooner  doon,  and  shorter  pain. 

1T  On  pilgremage  then  must  they  go, 
To  Wilsdon,  Barking,  or  to  some  hallowes ; 
Perchaunce  be  foorth  a  night  or  two  310 

On  foot,  for  wearing  of  horse  shooes  ; 
A  viage  made  vnto  the  stewes, 
And  neither  kneel  to  stones  ne  stocks, 
But  the  offring  take  with  a  quick  box. 

^1  Sometime  also  licence  they  craue 
To  be  w*  some  neighbour  in  the  midwiues  sted, 
And  all  to  the  end  some  other  knaue 
Shall  dub  her  husband  a  summer  bird, 
The  trueth  is  knowen  :  it  cannot  be  hid ; 
All  beit  that  few  men  doo  him  hear,  320 

"Ihe  cucko  sapgeth  all  the  yeer.1 
£  1T  They  haue  also  an  other  cast 2 
|i  case  the  husband  be  present ; 
The  childe  I  warrant  shalbe  bast, 
And  to  her  louer  therewith  sent. 
The  sely  man  none  euel  ment, 
Regardeth  little  or  nothing  this, 
How  by  the  babe  she  sends  her  kisse. 

U  And  that  she  would  be  reconed  true, 
The  matter  to  cloke  more  craftely,  330 


1  i.  e.  cuckoldom  continues  throughout  the  year.  An  account 
of  this  curious  subject  may  be  found  in  the  Additional  Notes  to 
"  Old  English  Jest  Books,"  vol.  iii. 

3  Device,  trick. 


118  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

Her  kinsman  call[s]  him,  I  warrant  you, 
And  all  to  blere  the  husbands  eye. 
God  wot,  the  blinde  eateth  many  a  flye : 
So  dooth  the  husband  often,  iwis, 
Father  the  childe  that  is  not  his. 

f  Trim  them  self  euery  day  new, 
And  all  to  blere  the  husbands  eye  ; 
Plat  and  plant,  and  their  heres  hew, 
And  all  to  make  it  for  the  eye ; 
The  finest  ware  that  they  may  bye,  340 

And  all  that  euer  they  may  imagine, 
Is  to  alure  the  masculine. 

IT  Plant  them  round  with  many  a  pin, 
Einged  for  routing  of  pure  golde,1 
Fair  without  and  foule  within, 
And  of  their  tailes  haue  slipper  holde. 
Bye  who  wil,  ware  wil  be  solde ; 
He  need  go  no  farther,  the  fair  is  heer ; 
Bye  when  ye  list,  it  lasteth  ouer  yeer. 

1T  Spare  for  no  cost,  but  drink  of  the  best,    sso 
And  also  of  euery  dainty  eat, 
Hot  in  operation,  and  light  to  digest, 
Nature  to  prouoke,  and  set  on  a  heat ; 
Oysters,  Cockles,  and  els  what  they  may  get, 
Now  this,  now  that  and  fain  them  self  sick, 
Such  things  to  receiue  as  for  the  Phisick. 

IF  By  meanes  wherof  Tiresias, 


1  An  allusion  to  the  ring  which  is  usually  placed  through  the 
nostrils  of  a  sow,  or  any  other  swine,  to  prevent  them  from 
routing. 


OF  WOMEN.  119 

Arbither  chuse[n]  the  trueth  to  discus, 

Gaue1  Judgement  plain  in  this  case, 

That  the  wonmn  is  far  more  lecherous,  ,%o- 

Gallus  gallinis2  ter  quinque  sufficit3  vnus  ; 

Sed  ter  quinque  viri 

Non  sufficiunt  mulieri. 

f  In  case  they  would  ought  of  you  craue, 
A  non  they  weep  and  lower  apace, 
And  say,  that  they  can  nothing  haue 
Them  to  apparel,  as  other  wiues  hase : 
Trust  not  ouer  much  their  mourning  face, 
Record  inough  of  Sampsons  two  wiues, 
Who  foloweth  their  mindes,  seldome  thriues.    370 

IF  All  heit  the  birder,  with  his  blered  eye, 
Dissemble 4  sorowe  with  his  sad  face : 
Yet  is  there  no  birde  he  may  come  by 
By  his  engines,  that  may  haue  grace ; 
By  women  it  foloweth  in  semblable  case, 
Weep  they,  or  laugh  they :  all  is  one  thing, 
They  dele  moste  craftely,  when  they  be  weeping. 

IF  And  yet  among  [men]  who  so  wil  thriue, 
And  office  here  in  town  and  Citty, 
Must  needs  be  ruled  by  his  wiue,  330 

Or  els,  in  fay,  it  wil  not  be. 
The  wife  must  able  him  to  the  degree, 
Able  or  vriable,  little  careth  shee, 
Because  her  self  would  honoured  be. 

IF  Fear  not,  she  saith  vnto  her  spouse, 


Old  ed.  has  giue.  2  Old  eds.  have  gaUinus. 

Old  eds.  have  sufftcit.         4  Affects. 


120  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

A  man  or  a  Mouse  whether  be  ye ; 

Should  ye  your  honesty  refuse, 

And  be  like l  as  other  men  bee 

In  person  and  in  eche  degree, 

Take  it  vpon  you,  doo  not  refuse  390 

And  I  my  self  wil  finde  your  house. 

1T  So  by  that  meane  of  her  counsail 
The  man  may  not  the  office  forsake, 
Because  the  wife  would  haue  a  tail 
Come  raking  after,  and  a  bonet  black, 
A  Ueluet  hed,  and  also  be  take 
With  the  best,  and  not  with  the  wurst ; 
The  man  must  be  ruled,  til  all  be  in  the  dust. 

H  Of  all  the  diseases  that  euer  wore, 
Wedding  is  next  vnto  the  goute ;  400 

A  salue  there  is  for  euery  sore 
To  help  a  man  within  or  without ; 
But  of  these  twaine  I  am  in  dout. 
No  pain  so  feruent,  hot  ne  colde, 
As  is  a  man  to  be  a  Cuckolde. 

IT  And  be  he  neuer  so  fearful  to  fray, 
So  stark  a  coward,  yet  wil  he  rage 
And  draw  his  knife  euen  straight  way  f 
Be  he  neuer  so  far  in  age, 

Call  him  once  cuckolde,  and  his  courage  410 

Foorthwith  wil  kindle  and  force  him  strike. 


1  Old  ed.  has  as  like. 

8  In  the  C  Mery  Talys,  printed  circa  1525,  folio,  some 
ludicrous  examples  are  given  of  the  sort  referred  to  here.  See 
No.  41  and  No.  74. 


OF  WOMEN.  121 

Wurse  then  ye  named  him  heretike. 

11  And  sith  there  is  no  salue  therfore, 
It  putteth  many  a  man  in  fear 
To  be  infect  with  the  self  same  sore, 
How  wel  so  euer  they  them  bere ; 
Good  token  haue  they  also  els  where, 
That  who  so  euer  weddeth  a  wife 
Is  sure  of  sorow  al  his  life. 

1F  Of  Socrates  the  pacient,  420 

Example  good  of  his  wiues  twain, 
.  Which  on  a  time  fel  at  dissent, 
And  vnto  him  did  them  complain : 
He  laughed  therat.  and  they  again 
Fel  bothe  on  him,  with  an  euel  date, 
A  p — spot  they  brake  vpon  his  pate. 

If  He  heeld  him  pleased  and  wel  content ; 
The  p — sse  ran  down  by  his  cheeks  twain  : 
Well  wist  I  (said  he)  what  is  ment, 
And  true  it  is  that  all  men  fain,  430 

That  after  thunder  commeth  rain. 
Who  hath  a  wife  is  sure  to  finde 
At  home  in  his  house  many  a  sower  winde. 

1T  A  certain  wife  said  to  me  once : 
I  would  thou  knew  it,  God  made  vs 
Neither  of  Earth,  stock,  ne  stones, 
But  of  a  thing  much  precious, 
Of  a  rib  of  a  man  ;  Scripture  saies  thus, 
Because  the  woman  in  euery  need 
Should  be  like  the  man  in  woord  and  deed.       440 

1F  Man  made  of  Earth,  and  woman  of  man, 
As  of  a  thing  moste  principall, 


122  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

Which  arguoth  wel,  saith  she  then, 
By  Judgement  iust  and  reason  naturall, 
That  we  be  euer  substanciall ; 
And  yet  ye  men  of  vs  bable, 
That  women  alwaies  are  variable. 

^[  Which  thing,  as  far  as  I  see  can, 
Should  be  imployed  rather  to  you, 
Sith  of  the  Earth  God  create[s]  man,  450 

And  figures  therof  maketh  euer  new ; 
Nature  thus  naturall  me  seemeth  now 
Must  needs  his  first  originall"" 
Ensue,  or  be  vnnaturall. 

^f  As  ye  say  (said  I)  help  him  wel 
Euel  to  thriue,  and  worse  to  fare. 
Who  was  the  cause  that  Adam  fel, 
His  wife  or  no,  I  make  you  ware  ? 
One  and  other  little  ye  care, 
So  ye  may  haue  that  ye  desire,  460 

Though  dun  and  the  pack  lye  in  the  mire. 

^f  Made  of  a  bone,  ye  said  ye  were, 
The  trueth  it  is,  I  cannot  deny. 
Crooked  it  was,  stif,  and  sturdy, 
And  that  would  bend  no  maner  of  way ; 
Of  nature  like,  I  dare  wel  say, 
Of  that  condition  all  women  be, 
Euel  to  rule,  bothe  stif  and  sturdy. 

^[  And  ouer  that,1  who  listeth  to  trye, 
Put  me  two  bones  in  a  bag,  470 


Besides  that. 


OF  WOMEN.  123 

Or  mo,  as  it  is  of  quantitie  ; 
That  doon,  holde  it  some  what  sag : 
Shake  it  also,  that  it  may  wag, 
And  ye  shall  hear  none  other  matter 
Of  these  bones  but  clitter  clatter. 

^[  Like  so,  of  women  in  feeld  and  town 
Assembled  where  that  many  be, 
A  man  may  hear  them  by  the  sown 
Farther  then  them  ye  may  see ; 
Wherfore  men  say  moste  commonly,  430 

Where  many  geese  be,  be  many  t — ds, 
And  where  be  women,  are  many  woords. 

^[  And  so  the  husband  is  like  to  haue 
A  singuler  treasure  of  his  wife  ; 
He  needeth  neuer  an  il  woord  to  craue1 
All  the  dayes  of  his  long  life. 
Hath  not  that  man  a  prerogatife2 
That  may  all  way  of  his  wife  haue 
A  thing  of  nought,  and  it  not  craue  ? 

^[  And  commonly,  where  cause  is  none,        490 
Some  thing  imagined  is  kept  in  store, 
Which  that  she  may,  come  the  good  man  home, 
With  spiteful  spite  lay  him  before ; 
Of  little  or  nought  they  make  much  more, 
And  be  it  true  or  false  they  tel, 
All  is  sooth3  as  the  Gospel. 

11  And  yet  the  rib,  as  I  suppose, 

1  The  a  of  this  word  has  dropped  out,  but  of  the  true  word 
there  can  be  no  doubt.     Utterson  printed  true  !  ! 

2  Old  ed.  has  perogatife.  3  Old  ed.  has  soothed. 


124  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

That  God  did  take  out  of  the  man, 

A  Dog  vp  caught,  and  a  way  gose 1 

Eat  it  clene  ;  so  that  as  than  500 

The  woork  to  finish  that  God  began, 

Could  not  be  as  we  haue  said, 

Because  the  Dog  the  rib  conuaid. 

11  A  remedy  God  found  as  yet ; 
Out  of  the  dog  he  took  a  rib, 
The  woman  foorth  with  he  made  of  it, 
As  to  the  man  neither  kin  nor  sib.2 
Nature  she  foloweth,  and  playeth  the  gib, 
And  at  her  husband  dooth  barke  and  ba[w]ll, 
As  dooth  the  Cur,  for  nought  at  all.  sio 

1T  A  nother  reason,  if  ye  mark  wel, 
Dooth  cause  the  woman  of  woords  be  riue. 


1  The  origin  of  the  term  way-goose  is  involved  in  some  ob 
scurity  ;  but,  perhaps,  it  is  a  corruption  of  Waes-goose.  In  Le 
Calendrier  Beige,  1862,  ii.  270,  an  account  is  given  of  the 
solemnity  and  enthusiasm  with  which  the  people  of  Waes,  in 
Brabant,  celebrated  in  former  times  the  festival  of  Saint  Martin, 
when  it  was  usual  to  kill  a  large  number  of  geese,  the  Saint's 
peculiar  bird ;  and  the  idea  is  strengthened  by  the  modern  form 
wayz-goose,  the  designation  applied  to  certain  annual  banquets 
(though  at  no  fixed  period  of  the  year),  in  which  printers  and 
their  staffs  are  accustomed  to  indulge.  At  the  same  time,  from 
the  manner  in  which  the  word  occurs  in  the  text,  it  might  be 
an  allowable  presumption  that  the  writer  merely  intended  to 
convey  by  way-goose,  in  the  present  case,  the  notion  of  a  goose 
which  happened  to  be  wandering  by  the  road-side  when  the  dog 
passed. 

-  Sib  signifies,  generally  speaking,  related,  akin,  but  occa 
sionally,  as  here,  perhaps,  merely  dear,  or  intimate.  See  note  to 
Wyfe  rapped  in  Morelles  Skin,  line  287. 


OF   WOMEN.  125 

A  certain  man,  as  fortune  fel, 

A  woman  tungles  wedded  to  wine,1 

Whose  frowning  countenauce  perceiuig  by  liue, 

Til  he  might  knowe  what  she  ment,  he  thought 

long, 
And  wished  ful  oft  she  had  a  tung. 

IT  The  Deuil  was  redy,  and  appeered  anon, 
An  aspin  lefe  he  bid  the  man  take, 
And  in  her  mouth  should  [he]  put  but  one,      520 
A  tung,  said  the  deuil,  it  shall  her  make  : 
Til  he  had  doon  his  hed  did  ake  : 
Leaues  he  gathered,  and  took  plentie, 
And  in  her  mouth  put  two  or  three.2 

1F  Within  a  while  the  medicine  wrought ; 
The  man  could  tarj  no  longer  time, 
.But  wakened  her,  to  the  end  he  mought 
The  vertue  knowe  of  the  medicine ; 
The  first  woord  she  spake  to  him,       i 
She  said :  thou  whoresonne  knaue  and  theef,    530 
How  durst  thou  waken  me,  with  a  mischeef ! 

1F  From  that  day  forward  she  neuer  ceased ; 
Her  boistrous  bable  greeued  him  sore. 
The  Deuil  he  met,  and  him  intreated 
To  make  her  tungles  as  she  was  before ; 
Not  so,  said  the  deuil.  I  wil  meddle  no  more, 

1  This  story  is  merely  a  metrical  version  of  the  62nd  article 
in  A  CMery  Talys,  ed.  1526,  where  it  is  entitled  "  Of  the  Man 
that  had  the  Dome  Wyfe." 

2  "  Whiche  man,  beyng  glad  of  this    medycyne,  preparyd 
therfore,  and  gatheryd  aspen  leues ;  wherfore  he  layde  iii  of 
them  vnder  her  tonge,  when  she  was  a  slepe." — C Mery  Talys. 


126  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

A1  Deuil  a  woman  to  speak  may  constrain, 
But  all  that  in  hel  be  cannot  let  it  again.2 

^[  And  by  proof  dayly  we  see 
What  inclination  nature  maketh  ;  oio 

The  aspin  lefe  hanging  where  it  be, 
With  little  winde  or  none  it  shaketh. 
A  womans  tung  in  like  wise  taketh 
Little  ease  and  little  rest : 
For  if  it  should,  the  hart  would  brest. 

^[  Look,  when  the  Sea  dooth  water  want, 
Nor  no  winde  bloweth  the  mil  to  walke ; 
When  Ethna  hil  of  fire  is  scant ; 
The  Crowe  is  white,' and  black  is  Chalke ; 
When  women  wil  cease  of  their  talke.  sso 

It  is  like  propertye  all  women  to  bable, 
As  dogges  to  barke,  and  geese  to  gagle. 

^[  And  that  more  is,  all  men  say, 
That  woman  to  man  is  moste  comfort ; 
How  beit,  they  meane  it  a  nother  way, 
And  say,  she  is  mans  vtter  extort ; 
And  oner  that,  by  iust  report, 
The  smaller  pease,  the  mo  to  the  pot, 
The  fairer  woman  the  more  gillot. 

If  The  fairer  of  face,  the  prouder  of  hart,     560 
The  lother  to  wo,  the  sooner  wun, 


1  Old  ed.  has  /. 

2  "  Albeyt  yet  I  haue   power  to  make  a  woman  to   speke ; 
but  yet  if  a  woman  begyn  ones  to  speke,  I,  nor  all  the  dyuels 
in  helle  that  have  the  most  power,  be  not  able  to  make  a  woman 
to  be  styll,  nor  to  cause  her  to  leue  her  spekynge." — C  Mery 
Talys,  No.  62. 


OF  WOMEN.  127 

The  lesse  of  speech,  the  more  ouerthwart, 
Not  one  so  daungerous  as  is  dame  dun, 
The  fowler  she  is,  the  sooner  it  is  doon  ; 
So  short  of  heel  they  be  ouer  all, 
That  if  ye  blowe,  they  must  needs  fall. 
IT  By  meane  wherof  all  men  report 
And  say,  that  women  cannot  be  stable ; 
For  be  one  gone,  an  other  resort 
And  profereth  them  thing  seruiable.  570 

Our  fily  is  fetled  vnto  the  saddle ; 
Ride  who  wil,  shod  is  the  Mare, 
And  thus  they  exchaunge  ware  for  ware. 

^[  In  case  thou  wouldst  not  haue  it  so, 
But  rather  finde  euery  thing  wel, 
I  councel  thee,  before  thou  go 
Foorth  of  the  town,  to  crowch  and  kneel, 
And  offer  a  Candel  to  the  deuil ; 
Percase  thy  wife  would  be  salewed, 
He  would  forset  it  all  be  shrewed.  589 

IT  Example  therof  that  was  this  : 
A  certain  man  from  home  should  ride, 
Which,  fearing  his  wife  would  doo  amisse, 
To  an  Image  of  Sathan  vpon  a  walles  side 
Offred  a  candle,  and  that  was  espied, 
And  said :  sir  Sathan,  now  I  charge  thee 
My  wife  in  my  abcence  that  thou  ouer  see. 

^[  His  iorney  ended,  [he]  came  home  again, 
And  the  self  Image  went  straight  vnto ; 
The  Deuil  him  shewed  euery  thing  plain,          sao 
How  he  had  let  that  should  haue  be[n]  doo, 
And  from  her  backward  drawen  one  or  twoo ; 


128  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

The  [most]  daungerous  cure  that  euer  he  had 
Was  to  keep  good  that  would  hauc  be[n]  bad. 

^[  An  other  thing  as  principall : 
Be  not  with  her  in  Jalosye, 
What  misaduenture  so  euer  befall ; 
Forbid  her  no  mannes  companye ; 
Nor  yet  rebuke  her  singulerly, 
In  case  thou  doo,  though  thou  hadst  sworue,     eoo 
A  blast  shalt  thou  bio  we  in  Ninerus  home. 

^[  For  as  we  see  by  experience 
Euery  day  before  our  eye, 
And  by  report  of  men  of  credence, 
For  the  moste  part  the  ferninie 
By  their  innatiue  distynye 
First  and  formoste,  when  they  be  chid, 
Wil  that  thing  doo  they  be  forbid. 

^[  And  ouer  that,  thy -wife  present, 
I  councel  thee  be  wise  and  ware :  cio 

Thou  praise  no  other  mannes  instrument 
Better  then  thine  owne  bering  ware : 
For  if  thou  doo,  she  wil  not  spare, 
Were  it  neuer  so  naturall  a  fool, 
Til  she  assaie  the  self  same  tool. 

IT  So  frail  they  be  of  disposition, 
So  crooked,  so  crabbed,  and  with  that  so  euil, 
So  lewd,  so  shrewd,  light  of  condition, 
That  sure  it  were  vnpossible 
To  let  them  of  their  owne  self  wil ;  620 

And  but  it  come  of  their  owne  minde, 
A  man  were  as  good  throwe  stones  in  ye  winde. 

5[  Say  what  ye  wil,  they  will  doo  as  they  lust, 


OF   WOMEN.  129 

The  proof  therof  's  in  a  certain  fable : — 
A  husband  man,  hauing  good  trust, 
His  wife  to  him  would1  be  agreeable, 
Thought  to  attempt  if  she  had  be  reformable, 
Bad  her  take  the  pot,  that  sod  ouer  the  fire, 
And  set  it  abooue  vpon  the  astire.2 

^[  She  aunswered  him :  I  holde  thee  mad,''  630 
And  I  more  fool,  by  Saint  Martine ; 
Thj  dinner  is  redj,  as  thou  me  bad, 
And  time  it  were  that  thou  shouldst  dine, 
And4  thou  wil  not,  I  wil  go  to  mine. 
I  bid  thee  (said  he)  here  vp  the  pot. 
A  ha  !  (she  said)  I  trowe  thou  dote. 

^[  Up  she  goeth  for  fear,  at  last, 
No  question  mooued  where  it  should  stand ; 
Upon  his  hed  the  pottage  she  cast, 
And  heeld  the  pot  stil  in  her  hand ;  640 

And  toward  him  she  curst  and  ban'd, 
Said  and  swore,  he  might  her  trust, 
She  would  with  the  pottage  do  what  her  lust — 

IT  No  remedy  for  to  discontent, 
To  prattle  to  them  of  reason  or  lawe : 
For  be  a  womans  purpose  bent, 
Nothing  preuaileth  to  withdraw, 
Nor  yet  to  keep  them  vnder  awe. 
Giue  them  councel  the  best  ye  can, 
They  wil  folow  their  owne  wil  now  and  than.     650 

1  Old  ed.  reads  had.  2  Hearth ;  i.  q.  astre. 

8  This  "  fable  "  is  nothing  more  than  No.  64  of  A  C  Mery 
Talys  altered  to  suit  the  occasion,  and  turned  into  verse. 
4  i.  e.  if. 
VOL.  IV.  K 


130  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

^[  Look  of  discretion,  few  womanly, 
And  to  thee  were  few  profitable, 
Not  three,  I  dare  say,  among  thirty, 
That  be  discreet  and  resonable  ; 
And  yet  alwaies  they  bible  bable 
Of  euery  matter,  and  make  it  nise,1 
And  in  conclusion  be  wunderous  peuish. 

^[  As  holy  as  Saints  in  Church  they  be, 
And  in  street,  as  Angels  they  were, 
At  home,  for  all  their  hipocrisie,  660 

A  Deuilish  life  they  lede  all  the  yeer. 
When  Lent  commeth,  then  to  the  freer : 
The  Fryer  limiter,2  for  a  pray  of  pence, 
Wil  for  all  causes  with  them  dispence. 

^[  And  that  more  is,  I  dare  auow, 
That  if  the  wife  displeasure  take, 
Be  it  right  or  wrong,  yet  thou 
Must  needs  of  force,  for  thy  wiues  sake, 
Fight  and  fray,  and  hie  woords  crake, 
Swere  and  stare,  as  who  would  say,  670 

Thou  wouldst  not  let  to  kil  and  slay. 
^T  I  case  thou  take  the  matter  light, 

1  To  make  it  pleasant,  or  snug.     I  do  not  remember  to  have 
seen  the  word  used  in  this  sense  very  frequently.     But  Gas- 
coigne  has  it  in  a  precisely  similar  way : — 

"  The  glosse  of  gorgeous  Courtes.  by  thee  did  please  mine  eye, 
A  stately  sight  me  thought  it  was,  to  see  the  braue  go  by ; 
To  see  their  feathers  flaunte,  to  make  their  straunge  deuise, 
To  lie  along  in  Ladies  lappes,  to  lispe  and  make  it  nice." 

Posies,  1575,  p.  191. 

2  Old  ed.  has  limlifter. 


OF  WOMEN.  131 

As  a  man  of  peace,  looue  and  concord, 
Then  wil  she  weep  anon  foorth  right, 
And  giue  thee  many  an  euil  woord ; 
And  bid  thee  gird  to  thee  thy  swoord, 
And  say  :  if  I  had  maried  a  man. 
This  thing  should  not  be  long  vndon. 

^[  Kecord  the  wicked  Jesabel, 
Which  would  haue  slain  good  Helias.  680 

Kecord  also,  of  the  Gospel, 
The  wife  of  Philip,1  Herodias 
Which  through  her  doughter  brought  to  passe 
That  Herod  her  graunted,  or  that  they  wist, 
To  giue  her  the  hed  of  John  baptist. 

^[  Thus  where  them  self  may  little  doo, 
As  in  regard  of  corporall  might, 
Of  cruelnesse  they  rest  not  so, 
But  stir  their  husbands  for  to  fight. 
The  prouerb  olde  accordeth  right : 
Women  and  dogges  cause  much  strife,2  690 

And  moste  occasion  to  mischeef. 

^[  In  case  that  thou  so  foolish  be, 
For  thy  wiues  woords,  to  make  a  brail, 
If  it  so  fortune  that  she  doo  it  see, 
Regardeth  little  what  may  befall, 
The  first  thing  that  she  dooth  of  all, 
On  thee  she  runneth  and  holdeth  thee  stil, 


1  It  is,  perhaps,  rather  out  of  place  here  to  point  out  that 
Herodias  was  at  this  time  not  the  wife  of  Philip,  but  of  Philip's 
brother,  Herod. 

*  The  proverb  is :  "  Women  and  dogs  set  men  together  by 
the  ears." 


132  TEE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

Whiles  that  an  other  may  thee  kil. 

IT  And  if  it  chaunce  any  vnkinde  woord         700 
Escape  thy  mouth,  wherby  that  ye 
Between  your  self  fall  at  discord, 
Trust  me  wel,  in  case  that  she 
By  any  mean  may  maister  thee, 
For  the  moste  parte  all  women  be 
In  such  case  all  without  pittye. 

IF  Weake  and  feeble  all  beit  they  be, 
Of  body  much  impotent, 
Example  dayly  yet  may  ye  see, 
Comberous  they  be  and  maliuolent ;  710 

Harmeles  creatures,  none  euel  ment ; 
The  vpper  hand  if  they  once  get, 
Can  no  more  harme  then  a  Mermeset. 

^[  Who  was  so  busy  as  the  maid 
With  crooked  language1  Peeter  to  oppose?2 
Once,  twise,  or  thrise  to  him  she  said : 
v  And  thou,  felowe,  art  one  of  those, 
The  trueth  (said  she)  thy  language  shose. 
Peter,  abashed,  swore  and  denaid, 
And  all  by  reason  of  the  lewd  maid.3  720 


1  St.  Luke  xxii.  56;  St.  John  xviii.  17.  The  satirist  here 
puts  rather  a  violent  construction  on  these  two  passages  in  Holy 
Writ,  inasmuch  as  the  woman  asked  Peter  only  once,  and  then 
not  at  all  in  "  crooked  language." 

8  Old  ed.  has  oppose.  To  oppose  was  formerly  used  in  the 
sense  of  to  question,  to  examine,  more  particularly  as  for  a  de 
gree,  holy  orders,  &c.  It  is  frequently  so  employed  in  Scoggin's 
Jests,  1626  (first  printed  before  1565). 

3  This  severe  attack  on  the  "  lewd  maid,"  is,  to  a  large  extent, 


OP  WOMEN.  133 

IT  Some  men  there  be  also  that  say : 
Be  she  single,  or  be  she  wed, 
To  much  she  coueteth  of  chamber  play ; 
As  did  Bibles l  the  thing  forbed, 
Presumed  to  be  in  her  mothers  sted ; 
Mirha  also  inordinately 
With  her  owne  father  found  meanes  to  lye. 

IT  The  doughters  twain  of  Lot  the  sage, 
Hauing  like  tikle  in  their  tailes, 
Could  not  refrain  their  wilful  rage ;  730 

To  satisfye  with  euel  haile 
Their  father  feasted  with  costly  vitail, 
Made  him  drunk,  and  so  at  last 
Medled  with  him,  he  sleeping  fast. 

1[  Examples  heerof  diuers  ther  be, 
To  prooue  my  saying  is  straight  as  a  line. 
As  first,  of  the  abhominable  Pasiphe,2 
And  then  the  insasiat  Missaline, 
Pirra,  Fabula,  and  fair  Heline, 
With  other  thousands  many  mo,  740 

Which  all  to  resite  would  neuer  be  doo. 

If  I  pray  you,  why  was  Adam  shent  ? 
Because  he  onely  did  transgresse  ? 
Eue  him  meeued3  first  to  consent 
To  eate  of  the  apple  she  did  him  dresse. 
So  all  came  of  her  wilfulnes ; 


a  gratuitous  exaggeration  on  the  part  of  the  author  of  the 
Schole-house  of  Women,  of  the  account  found  in  the  New 
Testament. 

1  Biblis.  2  Pasiphae.  *  Moved. 


134  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

And  sith  that  woman  that  offence  began, 
She  is  more  to  blame  then  is  the  man. 

f  The  wife  of  Lot  willing  also 
The  wil  of  God  to  preuaricate,  750 

Out  of  the  Cittie,  when  she  should  go, 
Looked  behinde  her  in  her  gate,1 
To  see  by  proof  the  prognosticate ; 
Displeased  God,  and  she  anon 
Transformed  was  into  a  salt  stone. 

IT  I  pray  you,  what  did  Queen  Atthaly,2 
(Look  in  Paralipomenon,) 
Mother  of  yung  king  Ahazye  ?3 
Of  all  and  of  all  the  wilfullest  one, 
Mooued  the  king  aforsaid,  her  sonne,  760 

To  doo  much  euil,  especially 
The  temple  of  God  for  to  destroy. 

*f[  Mighty  Sampson  two  wiues  had,4 
The  first,  a  Philistian  by  generation, 
Neither  of  them  good,  but  passing  bad, 
And  eke  to  him  far  out  of  fasshion  ; 
The  first  him  caused  by  lacrimacion5 
His  probleme6  to  hear,  so  that  he  said  ;7 

1  i.  e.  path,  way. 

2  Athalia,  queen  of  Judah;  assassinated  B.C.  878. 

3  Old  ed.  has  Othozye.    Ahaziah,  King  of  Judah,  is,  of  course, 
the  person  intended  (2  Chron.  xxii). 

4  Judges  xiv.  1 6  et  seqq. 

5  "And  Samson's  wife    wept    before  him,   and    said,  Thou 
dost  but  hate  me,  and  lovest  me  not ;  thou  hast  put  forth  a 
riddle  unto  the  children  of   my  people,  and   hast  not  told  it 
me,"  &c.— Judges  xiv.  16. 

6  i.  e.  Samson's  riddle.  7  i.  e.  told  her. 


OF  WOMEN. 


135 


When  she  knew  it,  she  him  betraid. 

If  The  second  delt  much  worse  then  so,        770 
Deceiued  him,  as  you  shall  hear, 
For  she  his  strength  did  take  him  fro ; 
In  her  lap  sleeping  she  dipt  of  his  hear, 
Betraied  her  Lord  and  her  bewpeer, 
Thus  Dalila1  for  meed  him  serued, 
And  caused  his  eyes  out  to  be  carued. 

If  The  wife  of  Job,  the  man  elect, 
Saluted  him  with  scornes  and  mocks, 
And  ful  vnseemly  oft  him  chect, 
Saying,2  thou  fool,  ful  of  the  pocks,  780 

Ful  like  a  fool  thy  brest  thou  knocks ; 
Weenest  thou  for  thy  fair  speech 
God  wil  come  thee  for  to  seech  ? 

^f  Thy  prating  leue,  foule  thee  befall, 
Trust  me  he  wil  thee  neuer  heale ; 
Thy  beasts,  thy  goods  and  thy  children  all 
Be  dead  and  brent3  now  euery  deale,4 
And  thou  liest  heer  with  many  a  bile5 
Prating  and  praying  to  the  deuine,6 


1  Old  ed.  has  Dalida. 

9  An  abominable  and  over-drawn  travestie  of  a  verse  in  the 
great  prose  epic  of  Job,  if  it  may  be  so  called :  "  Then  said  his 
wife  unto  him,  Dost  thou  still  retain  thine  integrity  ?  curse  God 
and  die." — Job  ii.  9. 

3  Burnt. 

4  i.  e.  every  portion,  every  branch. 

5  Boil.    "  So  went  Satan  forth  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord, 
and  smote  Job  with  sore  boils  from  the  sole  of  his  foot  unto  his 
crown." — Job  ii.  7. 

6  i.  e.  the  Almighty. 


136  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

And  wurse  thou  stinkest  then  a  dead  swine.      790 

IT  Like  wise,  the  wife  of  olde  Thoby,1 
Whose  name,  as  I  remember,  was  Anne ; 
Which  him  intreated  boisterously 
With  sad  rebukes  now  and  than ; 
Called  him  driuel  and  witles  man, 
Because  he  gaue  with  hart  so  liberall 
Parte  of  his  goods  to  the  porall. 

1F  The  wanton  wife  of  King  Pharao, 
Joseph  abhored  with  her  to  lye 
In  place  secret  between  them  two :  soo 

God  forbid,  Madame  (said  he). 
Because  she  sawe  it  would  not  be, 
A  shameful  lye  she  did  inuent 
In  prison  to  cast  that  innocent. 

IF  In  women  all  this  propertye 
Is  knowen  sure  and  manifest, 
That  if  a  man  may  come  so  nye 
To  shew  them  game,  that  they  looue  best, 
And  wil  not  doo  it,  then  wil  they  iest ; 
But  trust  me  sure  that  with  the  hart  sio 

They  wil  neuer  looue  him  afterwart. 

1F  The  wise  man  saith  in  his  Prouerbs2 
A  strumpets  lipps  are  dulce  as  hony, 
But  in  her  dealing  she  is  sowre  as  hearbs, 
Wormewood  or  Rue,  or  worse,  saith  he ; 


1  Tobiah. 

3  "  For  the  lips  of  a  strange  woman  drop  as  an  honeycomb, 
and  her  mouth  is  smoother  than  oil.  But  her  end  is  bitter  as 
wormwood,"  &c. — Proverbs  v.  3-4. 


OF   WOMEN.  137 

For  when  them  liketh  to  mock  with  thee, 

With  tung  and  eye  such  semblaunce  they  showe, 

That  hard  it  were  them  to  mistrowe.1 

IF  As  though  they  spake  with  mouth  and  hart, 
With  face  they  make  so  good  semblaunce,        820 
That  hard  it  were  a  man  to  start 
From  their  fair  glosing  countenaunce. 
Thus  with  their  sugred  vtteraunce 
The  simple  men  that  meane  but  iust 
Deceiued  are,  where  they  moste  trust 

IT  In  case  they  doo  you  but  one  benefit, 
An  hundreth  times  by  you  recompenced, 
They  wil  you  euer  with  that  one  entwit  ;2 
With  little  cause  or  none  offenced, 
All  our  demerits  shal  be  vnrecompenced  ;          sso 
So  be  it  lesse,  or  be  it  more, 
All  is  lost  ye  gaue  them  before. 

IT  If  ye  remooue  your  copy  holde, 
And  would  be  tenaunt  by  Indenture, 
There  is  no  ware  then  to  be  solde, 
Ye  must  go  seek  at  your  aduenture : 
For  as  of  you  I  haue  no  denture. 
Think  [you]  that  I  wil  be  so  redy, 
Nay,  by  Jesse,3  I  holde  you  a  peny. 

IT  And  then,  if  ye  no  labour  make,  840 

Ye  may  be  sure  that  then  wil  she 
Be  sure  out  throwe  the  hauke  to  take, 
The  like  of  her  aiEnitie. 
Good  God,  how  straunge  now  a  daies  be  ye  ! 

1  i.  e.  misbelieve.  2  Twit.  3  i.  e.  Jesus. 


138  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

I  would  haue  thought  ye  had  been  none  such  ; 
But  by  the  little  is  knowen  the  much. 

IT  So  at  length,  by  huch  or  by  cruch, 
Lease  or  more,  euer  they  craue,  ^ 

Until  thy  hand  be  in  thy  pouch. 
No  woords  preuail1  thee  to  saue,  850 

A  thousand  thousand  when  they  haue, 
To  make  a  man  a  thred  bare  cote, 
And  leaue  him  neither  peny  ne  grote. 

1F  Now  this,  now  that,  they  craue  alway, 
One  thing  or  other :   they  neuer  rest ; 
Say  what  ye  wil,  they  wil  no  nay, 
Nor  none  excuse,  but  their  owne  request ; 
So  they  may  be  trimmed  and  fed  of  the  best, 
They  haue  no  remorce  who  bereth  the  name,2 
Nor  whome  they  put  to  open  shame.  860 

H  The  trueth  is  knowen,  as  in  this  case, 
By  holy  writ  autenticate,3 
Between  Thamer4  and  the  Judge  Judas.5 
The  Book  called  Genesis6  examinate, 
How  Thamer  the  widow  in  the  way  sat, 
Disguised  her  self  in  straunge  aray, 
Judas  to  deseiue  after  that  way. 

1  i.  e.  avail. 

3  "To  bear  the  name"  was  to  be  in  repute,  either  good  or 
bad.  It  is  here  employed  in  the  latter  sense ;  but  in  the  prose 
Morte  Arthure,  ed.  Wright,  iii.  42,  Sir  Ector  says  to  Sir 
Launcelot : — "  And  yee  must  remember  the  great  worship  and 
renowne  that  yee  bee  of,  how  that  yee  have  been  more  spoken 
of  then  any  other  knight  that  is  now  living,  for  there  is  none 
that  beareth  the  name  now  but  yee  and  Sir  Tristram." 

3  i.  e.  authenticated.  4  Tamar. 

*  Judah.  6  xxxviii.  14  et  seqq. 


OF   WOMEN.  139 

^f  Her  fresh  attire  and  countenaunce  therto 
Prouoked  this  man  a  question  to  make ; 
She  lightly  concented,  as  some  other  doo,          870 
Said :  what  Avil  ye  giue  thy  pleasure  to  take  ? 
Some  pledge,  she  said,  for  promise  is  slack. 
Of  him  she  required  staffe,  mantel  and  ring, 
His  minde  to  folow,  and  doo  the  thing. 

^f  Short  tale  to  make,  the  lawe  was  then, 
A  woman  that  found  was  in  adultry, 
Dew  proof  aledged  by  credible  men, 
Should  suffer  death,  saunce  remedye ; 
The  matter  appeered  by  her  bely. 
She  openly  said,  in  slaunder  of  Judas :  sso 

Who  oweth  these  three  this  deed  doon  has. 

^f  Thus  be  they  all  past  shame  and  dreed, 
And  careth  not  who  bid  them  baile ; 
With  ghostly  sentence  them  to  feed, 
Little  or  nothing  dooth  them  preuaile  ; 
Be  thy  back  turned,  anon  they  rail, 
And  say,  for  all  your  counsail  good, 
Ye  had  leuer  a  bare then  a  furred  hood. 

If  To  say  that  they  can  counsail  keep, 
It  were  to  me  a  meruailous  thing,  890 

Onles  it  be,  when  they  doo  sleep, 
Or  no  body  [be]  to  giue  the  hearing. 
Desirous  euer  of  new  tiding, 
And  were  it  matter  of  lim  and  life, 
It  shalbe  tolde  out  by  thy  wife. 

If  Tully1  the  Eomain,  vpon  a  day, 

1  Cicero. 


140  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

Thought  to  approoue  his  wiues  secrye, 

In  councel  told  her  he  had  put  away 

The  Emperours  sonne :   to  the  end  that  we 

May  reign  and  rule  bothe  land  and  Sea.  9co 

Glad  was  she,  and  yet  she  went, 

And  him  disclosed  incontinent. 

1F  Tully  escaped  hard  with  his  life, 
And  all  by  meane  of  his  one  foly ; 
Had  not  the  trueth  been  knowen  beliue, 
To  haue  be[n]  hanged  it  was  ieoperdye. 
Be  it  therfore  true  tale  or  lye, 
Be  wise  and  ware ;  wake,  or  ye  wink, 
And  tel  not  your  wife  all  that  ye  think. 

1T  King  Salomon,  bothe  witty  and  wise,        9io 
A  woman  dooth  assimilate 
Unto  a  dropping  euesing1  guise, 
Distilling  down  after  rain  late, 
Whose  drops  vncleen  dooth  maculate 
The  finest  vesture  that  any  man  weres, 
With  colde  and  wet  the  body  deres.2 

IT  Euen  so  a  woman  litigious 
Disquieteth  an  whole  houshould ; 


1  "  A  continual  dropping  in  a  very  rainy  day,  and  a  conten 
tious  woman  are  alike." — Proverbs  xxvii.  15. 

Evesing  is  the  same  as  easing  or  casings,  i.  e.  the  eaves  of 
a  house — 

"  Little  boy  Bunting, 
Sat  on  the  house  easing, 
With  a  bow  and  a  bolt." 

Booke  ofMeery  Riddles,  1629. 

2  i.e.  injures. 


OF  WOMEN.  141 

And  who  so  he  be,  that  in  his  house 
Entendeth  to  keep  a  woman  skolde,  920 

The  winde  that  bloweth  bothe  moist  and  colde 
Were  better  far  for  to  herbour, 
And  lesse  should  finde  of  displeasure. 

H"  Enuious  they  be  it  is  dayly  seen, 
And  proud  also  of  comparison ; 
Eecord  of  Sabba,1  the  gorgious  Queen  ; 
Before  nor  since  was  neuer  such  a  one. 
Because  she  enuied  King  Salomon, 
To  prooue  his  wisdome,  and  take  with  a  trip, 
Passed  the  seas  in  a  merualous  sjiip.  930 

1T  Because  that  Naboth  would  not  sel 
Unto  the  king  of  Samaria 
The  vineyard  he  had  at  Israel, 
Achab  the  King  became  angry; 
As  soon  as  Jesabel  the  Queen  knew  why, 
She  straightly  comaunded  by  writing  to  fain 
Some  cryme  vpon  Naboth,  and  so  he  was  slain. 

IT  Look  and  read  the  book  Bocas,2 
And  ye  shall  finde  many  a  reason  3 
The  pride  of  women  to  deface,  940 

For  their  misKuing  in  their  season ; 
Good  women  he  wrot  were  very  geason,4 

1  Sheba. 

2  Boccaccio,  De  Casibus  Virorum  et  Fceminarum  Ulustrium. 
a  Old  ed.  has  reason. 

4  i.  e.  geson,  scarce  or  scanty.     So,  in  the  Hye.  Way  to  the 
Spyttell  Hous,  by  R.  Copland,  we  find : — 

"  So  by  reason  theyr  gaynes  be  geason, 
This  way  they  reiie  many  a  season." 


142  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

As  ye  shall  finde  of  ninteen  be  wot, 
But  of  the  twenty  neither  letter  nor  iote. 

1[  Salomon  saith,  three  things  [t]here  be 
Seldome  or  neuer  saturate.1 
Hel2  the  first  is  of  the  three ; 
The  second  a  womans  water  gate  ; 3 
The  ground  of  water  insaciate  ;  4 
Of  euery  lewd  fasshion  recken  who  can,  950 

And  euer  I  warrant  the  woman  is  one. 

1f  [Of  things]  hard  to  knowe  like  number  ther 

bee, 

The  fourth  to  knowe  who  is  he  that  can ; 
The  first,  which  way  a  bird  wil  flee, 
Or  of  a  serpents  prent  on  a  stone,5 
What  Hauen  a  ship  shall  driue  vpon  ; 


1  Satisfied,  satiated. 

2  "  The  horseleach  hath  two/  daughters  crying,  '  Give,  give ;'  / 
There  are  three  things  that  are/  never  satisfied,  yea,  four  things, 
say/  not,  It  is  enough/ 

The  grave ;  and  the  barren  womb ;  the  earth  that  is  not  filled 
with  water ;  and  the  fire  that  saith  not,  It  is  enough.  .  .  . 

There  be  three  things  which  are  too  wonderful  for  me,  yea 
four  which  I  know  not:  The  way  of  an  eagle  in  the  air; 
the  way  of  a  serpent  upon  a  rock ;  the  way  of  a  ship  in  the 
midst  of  the  sea ;  and  the  way  of  a  man  with  a  maid." — 
Proverbs  xxx.  15-19. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  observe  that  the  present  text  is  a 
miserable  burlesque  on  the  language  of  the  "  Preacher." 

3  A  coarse  allusion  which  needs  no  explanation. 

4  i.  e.  the  earth  that  is  not  filled  with  water. 

5  Old  ed.  reads  serpent  sprent  from.     Burns  used  prent  for 
print,  in  which  he  merely  followed  the  example  of  almost  all 
early  Scotish  writers. 


OF   WOMEN.  143 

The  craft  of  a  w perceiue  who  can, 

And  euer  T  warrant  the  woman  is  one. 

^[  The  ground1  also  dooth  vary2  by3  three  ;4 
The  fourth  may  not  be  stablished  sure  :  960 

A  bond  man  set  in  maiestye, 
A  fool  fed  fat  whiles  he  wil  in  powre, 
An  odious  5  woman  in  weddings  vre,6 
An  heir  made  of  a  bond  woman,7 
So  euer  I  warrant  the  woman  is  one. 

11  Which  things  remebred  wil  ever  8  eche  man 
Report  of  them  accordingly, 
And  say  plainly,  that  in  the  woman 
Is  little  thing  of  praise  worthy. 
Lettred  or  vnlearned  whether  they  be,  970 

They  say  of  all  creatures  women  are  the  best ; 
Guilts  contrarium  verum  est. 

IT  And  were  ['t]  not  two  small  venialles,9 
The  feminine  might  be  glorifide, 
Set  in  thronis  10  perpetualles 
And  as  the  Goddes  be  deifide ; 

The  earth. 

Vary  is  used  here  in  an  intransitive,  and  also  in  a  rather 
unusual  sense.     It  signifies  to  disturb,  to  disquiet. 

Through ;  equivalent  to  the  Latin  per. 

i.  e.  three  things. 

This  is  the  very  word  used  in  Proverbs  xxx.  23. 

Use,  experience. 

"  An  handmaid  that   is   heir  to  her  mistress." — Proverbs 
xxx.  23. 

8  Old  ed.  has  wel  neer.  g  Faults. 

10  Thronis  here,  and  one  or  two  other  expressions,  such  as 
tratise,  at  line  981,  and  prent,  at  line  955,  might  favour  a  sus 
picion  that  the  author  of  The  Schole  House  was  a  North  Briton. 


144  THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE 

Twoo  vcniall  sinnes  they  haue  and  hide, 
None  of  the  seuen *  their  names  who  can  tel, 
They  can  neither  doo,  nor  yet  say  wel.8 

IF  So  to  conclude  of  this  tratise' 
A  finall  end,  rude  though  it  be, 
The  processe  through  who  wil  superuise, 
Shall  wel3  perceiue  I  make  no  lye ; 
An  end  therfore  to  make  shortly, 
In  my  conceit  he  liueth  in  rest, 
That  medleth  with  them  of  all  people  lest. 


Go  foorth,  little  book  :  be  not  a  fraid 

To  be  accept  with  them  that  are  wise ; 

And  shew  them  plain,  what  so  be  said,  990 

In  any  parte  of  this  treatise, 

Dooth  not  disdain  their  honesties ; 


1  i.  e.  the  seven  'deadly  sins. 

"  We  men  have  many  faults ; 
Poor  women  have  but  two : 
There's  nothing  good  they  say, 
There's  nothing  good  they  do." 

Complete  London  Jester,  ed.  1771,  p.  122. 

The  Rev.  John  Ward,  in  his  Diary  (ed.  1839,  p.  105),  quotes 

the  following  Latin  epigram,  somewhat  to  a  similar  purport : — 

"Est  mulier  mera  bilis>,  habet  duo  commoda  tantum, 
Cum  jacet  in  thalamo,  cum  jacet  in  tumulo." 

3  Old  ed.  has  wil. 


OF   WOMEN.  145 

But  for  the  lewd  might  haue  a  mirrour 
Heerbj  to  amend  their  damnable  errour. 

H  Like  as  the  Preacher  dooth  discommend 
All  vices  liuing  with  mouth  and  wil ; 
Or  as  the  Minstrel  dooth  intend, 
With  help  of  Lute,1  finger  or  quil, 
Example  shewing  to  conuert  the  il ; 
Like  so  mine  auctor  dooth  the  same,  1000 

No  creature  liuing  spoken  by  name. 

1T  Percase  any  one  displeasure  take, 
Because  it  toucheth  her  properly,2 
In  case  that  she  such  waies  forsake. 
Which  moste  accordeth  to  her  propertye, 
She  needeth  not  heerwith  to  be  angry. 
God  graunt  vs  all  we  may  doo  this, 
Euery  man3  to  amend  that  is  amis.4 

II  The  good  alwaies  wilbe  content 
With  that  that  is  spoken  in  generall ;  1010 

Ther  wil  none  so  soon  be  discontent 
As  they  that  fretised  5  be  with  all ; 
Bub  a  scald  horse  vpon  the  gall, 
And  he  wil  bite,  wins  and  went, 
So  wil  all  people  that  are  maleuolent. 

1T  Go  foorth  therfore  among  the  thick, 


1  See  Ritson's  Ancient  Songs  and  Ballads,  1829,  Ixiii,  Ixiv. 

2  Personally,  Lat.  proprius. 

3  So  King's  ed.     Allde's  ed.  has  For. 

4  In  King's  ed.  1560,  this  line  stands  thus:— 

"Euery  man  to  anende  one  in  that  is  amys.'' 

5  Displeased,  annoyed. 

VOL. IV.  L 


146     THE  SCHOLE-HOUSE  OF  WOMEN. 

And  here  in  minde  who  is  with  thee, 
The  woords  that  Salomon  and  Dauid  spake 
In  Judicum,1  and  in  Genesye ; 
Hierome,2  Juuenall,  and  olde  Tohye,  1020 

Caton,  and  Quid  wil  testyfie, 
And  Merciall  also,  who  listeth  to  try. 
1F  And  vnto  them  that  learned  be, 
I  would  and  wil  thou  meekely  went, 
And  showe  them,  who  so  made  thee 
No  thing  purposed  of  il  intent 
That  should  prohybe  3  the  Sacrament ; 
But  that  the  masculine  might  heerby 
Haue  some  what  to  iest4  with  the  feminy. 


tje  Scale 
of  toomen,5 


3[mprfnteu  at  Jlon 

fcon  at  tfje  long  sjop  attorning 
bnto  Saint  J&iOirettf 
in  tie  ^ultrie, 
f  ofw 


1  Judges.  a  St.  Jerome. 

3  So  King's  ed.    Allde's  ed.  reads  prohibit. 
*  King's  ed.  has  rest. 

4  Not  in  Allde's  ed. 


applies  Pater  noster* 


HPHE  Proude  Wyves  Pater  noster  that  wolde  go  gave,  and 
•*•  undyd  her  Husbonde  and  went  her  wave.  Anno  Domini 
MDLX.  With  a  woodcut  on  the  title  of  a  man  with  purses  at 
his  girdle.  [Col.]  Imprinted  at  London  in  Paules  Churche 
yearde  at  the  Sygne  of  the  Swane  by  John  Kynge.  4to. 
black  letter. 

The  Proude  wyues  Pater  noster,  that  wolde  go  gave,  and 
vndyd  her  husbonde  and  went  her  waye.  With  a  woodcut  on 
title  of  two  women  conversing.  [Col.]  ^f  Imprinted  at  London 
in  Paules  Churcheyarde  at  the  Sygne  of  the  Swane  by  John 
Kynge.  4to.  black  letter. 

King's  press  seems,  about  this  time,  literally  to  have  teemed 
with  popular  poems  for  or  against  the  fair  sex ;  for,  not  content 
with  printing  new  essays  on  this  interminable  controversy, 
he  republished  some  which,  from  their  great  popularity,  were 
no  longer  to  be  procured,  perhaps,  and  for  which  there  was  still 
a  demand,  such  as  Gosynhyll's  Mulierum  Pcean,  the  Schole-house 
of  Women,  &c.  The  printer,  as  was  natural,  or  reasonable, 
consulted  only  the  marketable  qualities  of  the  ware  brought  to 
him,  and  so  we  find  the  same  person  becoming  the  medium  for 
introducing  to  public  notice  works  of  a  directly  opposite  charac 
ter.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  Gosynhyll  was  dead  when  King 
reproduced  his  Mulierum  Pcean  side  by  side  with  The  Schole  house 
of  Women,  in  the  exordium  to  which  Gosynhyll  is  not  very 
politely  mentioned. 

The  Proude  Wyues  Pater  noster  was  licensed  to  John  Kyng 
on  the  10th  June,  1560,  and  he  paid  two  shillings  for  it  and 


148  PROUDE  WYUES  PATER  NOSTER. 

other  articles.  The  tract  was  licensed  (with  others)  to  John 
Charlwood  on  the  15th  January,  1581-82,  and  it  appears  from 
the  Stationers'  Registers,  that  it  had  been  previously  the 
property  of  Sampson  (or  John)  Awdeley,  so  that  it  is  likely 
enough  that  several  editions  issued  from  the  press  during  the 
sixteenth  century.  This  is  one  of  the  tracts  described  by  Lane- 
ham  in  1575  as  being  then  in  the  library  of  Captain  Cox.  It  is 
reprinted,  not  very  accurately,  in  Select  Pieces  of  Early  Popular 
Poetry,  1817,  and  there  is  a  review  of  it  in  Mr.  Collier's  Biblio 
graphical  and  Critical  Account  of  Early  English  Literature, 
1865,  from  the  edition  dated  1560. 

The  other  impression,  by  King,  without  any  date  on  the 
title,  is  among  Selden's  books  at  Oxford;  it  has  been  collated 
for  the  present  purpose;  and  a  correct  representation  of  the 
original  title-page  is  subjoined.  These  are  the  only  old  editions 
of  the  poem  known  to  be  in  existence. 


Pater  nofier,  tbat  tooine  gogage,  ann 
unDgtifiet  imf&ontte  anD  toent 


hje  feest  dayes,  whan  wyues  go  gaye 

To  chyrche  with  grete  deuocyon, 
Theyr  prayers  deuouily  for  to  saye, 

Theyr  thynkynge  is  on  thys  lesson: 
Or  they  go  forth  them  selfe  to  trym, 

Both  heed  and  brest,  on  foote  and  hande, 
I  swere  to  you,  by  swete  saynt  sym, 

The  selfe  they  thynke  angels  well  to  vnderstade. 


Theyr  beautous  behauyour  and  cotenauce  demure 
They  thenke  fill  pleasaunt  for  to  beholde, 

But  for  to  go  gaye  ye  may  be  sure 
They  muse  full  often  and  many  folde ; 

And  how  they  myght  best  to  passe  brynge, 
Eche  as  gorgyous  as  other  to  go 


1  In  the  course  of  this  poem  there  are  two  dialogues  between 
two  women,  which  is  not  marked  in  any  way  in  the  old  edition. 
The  division  of  the  work  into  eight-line  stanzas  has  been  made 
without  any  regard  to  the  sense,  either  by  the  author  or  by  the 
printer  of  the  volume ;  nevertheless,  I  thought  it  advisable  not 
to  disturb  this  arrangement. 


152  THE  PROUDE   WYUES 

In  theyr  aparell,  gyrdell  and  rynge, 
And  other  trym  knackes  many  mo. 


To  churche  they  be  come,  this  is  no  lye, 

Vnto  theyr  pewe  there  for  to  knele, 
Keuerence  doynge  to  the  other  by 

With  countenance  meke,  as  becometh  the  wele ;    20 
Than  syt  they  downe,  eche  gossep  other  by, 

Beholdynge  theyr  aparell  of  eyther  syde, 
Yf  the  one  be  gaier  than  the  other,  that  doth  espye, 

Than  she  thynketh  her  felowe  set  all  full  of  pryde. 

Yet  to  her  deuocyon  she  dothe  her  set, 

And  Pater  noster  she  doth  begyne ; 
But  to  gaye  gere  her  hert  doth  fret, 

And  thynketh  how  she  may  suche  gaye  gere  wyne, 
Sayenge  to  her  selfe :  what  fortune  haue  I, 

That  my  felow  so  gorgyous  is  in  her  gere,  30 

And  I  syte  here  so  poorely  her  by  ! 

But  it  shalbe  amended,  by  god  I  swere. 


^[  Qui  es  in  celis — and  that  within  shorte  whyle, 
Or  ells  my  husbande  full  sore  it  shall  repent, 

For  I  can  nought  gete  of  him  by  fete  nor  wyle, 
But  all  shall  be  myne  now  that  I  in  hade  ca  hent l 


1  i.e.  in  hand  can  hent  or  hold.     To  hent,  or  to  hend  is  very 
commonly  used  by  early  writers,  though  now  obsolete. 


PAT  Eli  N  OS  TEE.  153 

From  him  al  way,  whatsoeuer  betyde, 

Tyll  I  be  arayde  as  other  women  be. 
I  wolde  not  haue  ought  for  no  maner  pryde, 

But  only  because  it  is  a  good  syght  to  se.  40 

IT  Sanclificetur  nomen  tuum — 

Lorde  halowed  be  thy  name, 
Yf  to  suche  gere  I  may  come, 

Then  shall  I  bere  bothe  porte 1  and  fame, 
As  other  women  in  euery  where 

Do  alwaye  were  2  as  they  do  wende ; 
Go  feete  and  fresshe  and  trymme  in  theyr  gere, 

In  the  best  maner,  as  them  doth  to  pretende.3 


IF  Adueniat  regnu  tuu — thy  kingdom  come  to  vs 
After  this  lyfe,  when  we  hens  shall  wende ;  so 

But  whyle  we  be  here  now,  swete  Jesus, 

As  other  women  haue,  suche  grace  in  me  sende, 

That  I  may  haue,  Lorde,  my  heede  in  to  wrap, 
After  the  gyuse,  kerchefes  4  that  be  fyne, 


1  State,  show.  2  Old  eds.  have  where. 

3  Pretend  is  often  found  in  Shakespeare  and  elsewhere  in  the 
sense  of  intend;  but  here  it  appears  to  import  the  same  as 
pertain  or  belong.  Perhaps  the  word  is  made  in  the  present 
passage  to  bear  a  rather  forced  meaning  for  the  sake  of  the 
rhythm,  which,  however,  does  not  seem  to  have  weighed  much 
with  the  writer  in  the  composition  of  this  piece. 

*  Old  eds.  have  kercheses.  Kerchiefs,  as  an  article  of  dress 
for  the  head,  were  anciently  very  fashionable,  and  were  often 
made  in  very  costly  material.  Stow,  in  his  Annales,  describes 
in  the  following  terms  the  passage  through  London  of  Eleanor, 


154  THE  PROUD E   WYUES 

And  theron  to  sette  some  lusty  trymme  cap, 

With  smockes  wel  wrought,  soude  wth  sylke  twyne. 

1T  Fiat  voluntas  tua — thy  well  fulfylled  be, 

Lorde  god,  alway  as  thys  tyme  dothe  requyre ; 
And  as  my  gossep  that  sytteth  here  by  me, 

So  let  me  be  trymmed :  nought  elles  I  desyre.       eo 
Therfore  yf  it  may  be  in  any  wyse, 

For  thou  haste  power  therof  to  do  thy  wyD, 
To  make  me  go  gaye  after  the  best  guyse, 

For  reason  it  is  with  right  good  skyll.1 

1T  Sicut  in  celo  et  in  terra — in  heauen  as  in  erthe, 
Yt  is  alway  sene,  go  we  neuer  so  farre,2 

That  women  aboue  all  the  beaute  bereth, 

And  without  gaye  gere  our  beaute  we  marre ; 

Therfore,  good  lorde,  let  this  be  a  ineride,3 

And  gaye  gere  to  were  that  I  may  haue,  70 

Duchess  of  Gloucester: — "On  Monday,  the  13th  November 
[1441],  she  came  from  Westminster  by  water,  and  landed  at  the 
Temple  bridge,  from  whence,  with  a  taper  of  waxe  of  two 
pound  in  her  hand,  she  went  through  Fleete  streete  hoodless, 
save  a  kerchief,  to  Pauls."  See  also  A  C  Mery  Talys,  No.  99 
(ed.  Hazlitt),  and  note. 

1  i.e.  cause.     So  in  the  Winter's  Tale,  act  iv.  sc.  3— 

"Per.  *  * 

You  woo'd  me  the  false  way. 
Flo.  I  think,  you  have 

As  little  skill  to  fear,  as  I  have  purpose 
To  put  you  to  't." 

2  Old  eds.  have  feere. 

3  Old  ed.  has  amended.     See  line  180  infra,  where  amende  is 
used  in  the  sense  of  amended.     Amende  is  here  required  by  the 
rhythm. 


PATER  NO S  TEE.  155 

Or  elles  my  lyfe  wyll  haue  an  ende : 

For  very  pure  thought  nought  can  me  saue. 

1T  Panem  nostrum  cotidianum — 

Our  dayly  brede,  lorde,  wyll  also  do  well ; 
But  of  dyuers  cornes  I  haue  many  a  come l 

At  home  in  my  barne  for  to  sell ; 
But  ther  with,  lorde,  I  dare  not  mell 

For  feare  of  my  husbande  that  kepeth  me  so  hard, 
A  busshell  therof  I  dare  not  sell, 

For  yf  he  wyste  the  game  were  marde.3  so 

IF  Da  nobis  hodye — gyue  vs  thys  daye, 

And  specially  me,  my  lorde,  that  am  heuy  at  hert, 
Tyll  I  haue  my  wyll,  lorde :  a  parte,  I  saye, 

Of  my  desyre,  lorde,  or  elles  I  must  lyue  in  smarte — 
With  that  full  maruaylously  than3  she  sigh't,4 

And  in  a  swone  halfe  gan  she  fall ; 
Her  felowe,  beholdynge  that  wofull  wight, 

She  5  wondred  full  sore  than  here  with  all. 

IT  Et  dimitte  nobis  debita  nostra — now  [2nd 

Mercy,  good  Lorde,  and  forgyuenes !  What  is  this  ?    Wife.'] 


1  Utterson  printed  corns. 

2  Mr.  Waring  writes  to  me,  "  The  practice  to  which  this 
stanza  refers  is  still  kept  up  in  rural  districts.     The  farmer's 
wife  'robs  the  barn,'  so  they  express  it,  sells  wheat  without 
her  husband's  knowledge  to  pay  for  extra  finery. 

3  Old  eds.  have  can.  4  Old  eds.  have  tight. 

4  Old  eds.  have  and. 


156  THE  PROUDE  WYUES 

I  was  neuer  thys  a  frayde,  I  make  god  a  vow.  91 

Good  Lorde,  sayd  she,  than  what  meaneth  this  ?  — 

And  her  lyttell  fynger  than  wronge  she  fast, 
Her  to  reuyue,  and  gaue  her  swete  spyce  ; 

So  she  vp  sterte1  than  at  the  laste, 

Lyke  a  tryme  gossyp  that  fayne  wolde  be  nece. 

[1st      IF  Sieut  et  nos  dimittimus  debytoribus 
Wife.']  nostris  — 

As  we  do  forgyue,  Lorde,  so  let  vs  be  forgyuen. 
And  than  to  her  she  dyd  saye  without  mys  : 

Ye  had  a  shrode2  fyt,  by  swete  saynt  steuen  ;       100 
Gossyp  myn,  how  is  it  wyth  you  nowe, 

What  is  your  grefe,  now  I  you  pray  ? 
Yf  I  can  ease  you,  by  God  auowe,8 
I  wyll  be  redy  both  nyght  and  daye. 

H  Et  ne  nos  in  ducas  in  temptacionem  — 

Let  vs  fall  into  no  temptacyon  now. 
With  that  the  other  reuyued  then, 
.   Ryght  sore  dysmayde,  ye  [may]  me  trow, 
[Both']   And  to  eche  other  they  gan  saye  : 

Why  be  ye  thus  sad,  my  gossep  dere?  no 

Tell  me  the  cause  now,  I  you  praye, 

For  yf  it  lay  in  me  now,  I  wil  amende  your  chere. 

[  Se[d]  lebera  nos  a  malo  —  delyuer  vs  frome  all  vll, 


1  Old  preterit  of  start.  2  i.e.  shrewd. 

3  Old  eds.  have  anowe. 


PATER  NOSTEE.  157 

Haggis  and  iaggis,1  this  wyfe  gan  to  reherse, 
Yf  I  may  not  go  gay,  I  shall  my  selfe  spyll,2 

I  pray  you,  gossyp  dere,  vnderstad  well  this  verse  ; 3 
My  husbonde  is  harde  to  me  bothe  day  and  night, 

And  doth  me  not  regarde,  but  let[s]  me  go  euen  thus ; 
Not  as  other  do,  but  as  a  wretched  wyght,  119 

But  yet  it  shalbe  mended,  I  hope,  by  swete  Jesus. 

H  Amen — sayd  the  other,  I  pray  god  it  be  so, 
For  ye  haue  good  ynoughe,  this  I  do  knowe  well, 

Of  good  marchaundise,  so  mote  I  the, 
As  any  is  here  in  this  countre  to  sell, 


1  i.  e.  rags  and  jags,  two  words  of  equivalent  import,  here 
whimsically  employed  as  an  adjuration.     Tag  is  still  in  use  as  a 
vulgarism  I  believe,  and  many  may  be  acquainted  with  the 
modern  ballad — 

"  Hark,  hark, 
The  dogs  do  bark, 
The  beggars  are  coming  to  town, 
Some  in  rags, 
And  some  in  jags, 
And  some  in  velvet  gown." 

I  remember  that  this  was  a  favourite  composition  with  me 
when  I  was  a  child.  In  the  Hye  Way  to  the  Spyttell  Hous, 
Copland  says — 

"  Come  none  of  these  pedlers  this  way  also, 
With  pak  on  back,  with  their  bousy  speche, 
Jagged  and  ragged,  with  broken  hose  and  breche  ?  " 

2  i.  e.  spoil. 

3  Verse,  in  early  English  writers,  often  signifies  merely,  as  it 
does  here,  sentence,  and  thence  a  truth  or  maxim. 


158  THE  PEOUDE   WYUES 

For  his1  degre ;  but  he  is  a  frayde 

That  he  sholde  passe  his  state  2  or  loke  to  hawt,3 
Than  behynde  your  backes  it  shulde  be  sayde, 

Yf  he  fare4  amyss,  that  it  were  all  your  fawt. 


But  copetenly  take  the  thyrde  peny  of  hys  gayne, 

And  bye  therwith  both  kyrtell  and  gowne, 
Than  yet  shall  ye  leaue  hym  alvvay  twayne, 

So  do  we,  moste  parte,  throughout  the  towne ; 
Or  elles  we  sholde  neuer  haue  halfe  our  gayes  5 

That  we  haue  ywys,  ye  may  be  sure, 
But  properly  thus  we  fynde  the  wayes 

With  rynges  and  beedes  to  go  ful  demure. 


Kybandes  of  sylke,  that  be  full  longe  and  large, 

With  tryangles  trymly  made  poynte  deuyse, 
For  some  folke  it  were  full  grete  charge ; 

Therfore  all  thynge  by  mesure,  by  myne  adtiyse ; 
But  as  for  you  ye  may  be  bolde  MI 

To  do  som  what  more  than  other  maye : 
Yet  it  wolde  make  your  husbondes  herte  full  colde, 

Yf  he  so  harde  be  and  wretched  as  ye  saye, 


1  i.  e.  the  husband's.  *  i.  e.  exceed  his  means. 

3  Old  ed.  has  on  hawt.     Hawt  is,  of  course,  hiyh. 

4  Utterson  printed  fore. 

5  i.e.  Finery.     It  is  used    in  exactly  the  same  way  in  a 
passage  quoted  by  5s  ares  from  the  Comical  History  of  Francion, 
1655. 


PATER  N OS  TEE.  159 

That  he  may  not  se  you  go,  as  other  do, 

And  haue  it  so  well  as  he  hath  in  store. 
I  wolde  haue  my  fyne  hoose,  and  eke  my  trym  sho, 

With  other  knackes  many  a  score  : 
Yf  I  were  as  you  be,  i  *  fayth  I  swere, 

Som  what  sholde  be  solde  y  he  sholde  not  knowe. 
Ye  haue  to  sell  so  dyuers  gere,  151 

He  can  not  knowe  all,  by  god  I  trowe. 


Yet  may  I  reioyce  alway  ywys, 

For  my  husbonde  is  glad,  whan  1  go  tryme, 
He  wolde  thynke  I  dyd  full  sore  a  mys 

Yf  I  wente  not  freshe,  by  swete  saynte  syme. 
He  doth  reioyce  in  my  gay  gere, 

Whan  he  doth  se  me  put  it  on, 
And  wolde  I  shulde  it  often  were, 

For  I  shall  haue  newe,  whan  myn  is  done.  160 

O  good  Lorde  !  happy  be  ye,  [1st 

That  haue  so  good  a  husbonde,  by  god  in  throne ;        Wife.~] 
A  monge  a  hundreth  ye  shall  not  fynde  thre 

Of  all  our  neyghbours  that  hath  suche  a  one. 
Yf  god  wolde  myne  were  as  your  is, 

I  wolde  be  as  mery  as  byrde  on  brere,2 
But  hys  harte  is  so  set  on  couetyse  ywys 

That  he  can  neuer  be  of  good  chere, 


1  Old  ed.  has  J.  *  i.  e.  briar. 


160  THE  PROUDE   WYUES 

And  causeth  me  often  for  to  wepe; 

Whan  I  thynke  on  hys  vnkindenes  so  grete,         170 
I  can  not  ete,  nor  drynke,  nor  slepe, 

For  grete  heuynes  my  herte  dothe  bete  : 
But  throught  your  cousaile,  my  gossep  dere, 

I  hoppe  the  better  for  to  spede, 
And  for  to  go  gayer  another  yere, 

With  myrth  and  ioye  my  lyfe  to  lede. 

That  I  may  be  accepted  with  euery  man 

Which  me  beholdeth  both  ferre  and  nere, 
Without  your  helpe  no  rede  I  can, 

But  by  your  good  counsaile  amende1  is  my  chere. 
Thus2  hole3  in  you  my  hope  I  sete,  isi 

And  without  you  I  am  but  dede, 
Lusty  fresshe  gere  how  I  may  gete, 

And  to  go  trym  in  lusty  wede.4 

[2nd     Well,  gossep,  than  do  after  me, 
Wife.~\       And  ye  shall  neuer  repente  ywys, 
I  swere  to  you  by  Mary  so  fre, 

All  shalbe  well  that  nowe  is  amys : 
Beware  of  one  thinge,  your  t5gue  go  not  to  large, 

And  forbere  your  husbonde  whan  he  is  grame,5    190 
Speke  neuer  to  hym  of  suche  charge 
With  euyl  mode,  for  that  were  shame. 

1  i.e.  amended.         2  Old  eds.  have  thys.         3  Wholly. 

4  Gere— King's  dated  ed. 

5  Angry.     See  Halliwell's  Dictionary  of  Archaic  Words,  in 
voce.     In  the  present  passage,  however,  the  word  is  used  as  an 
adjective. 


PATER  NOSTER.  161 

Yf  ye  of  hym  suche  thynge  haue 

As  ye  desyre  for  to  go  gay, 
With  louyng  coutenaunce  ye  must  it  craue, 

And  with  fayre  wordes  to  hym  say  : 
My  hushonde  dere,  I  you  requyre 

Take  no  displeasure  with  my  worde, 
What  soeuer  of  you  I  do  desyre  ; — 

But  this  must  be  done  in  bed  or  at  borde.  200 

My  louely  husbonde,  my  spouse  most  dere, 

To  you  I  must  nedes  talke  my  mone, 
As  reason  requireth ;  ye  be  my  fere, 

And  no  body  elles  but  you  alone  ; 
Thus  I  must  desyre  you  with  all  my  herte, 

Take  no  dyspleasure  what  euer  I  saye, 
For  yf  ye  do,  it  wyll  me  smarte, 

And  for  thought1  I  shall  dye,  this  is  no  nay. 

Whan  he  this  hereth,  than  he  wyll  muse  210 

And  meruell,  what  your  request  wyll  be ; 
Yf  he  be  gentyll,  he  wyll  not  refuse 

No  reasonable  thynge,  I  hope,  perde. 
Ye  shall  than  saye,  ye  lacke  that  or  this, 

And  begin  wh  ye  thinge  y*  ye  haue  most  nede, 
I  dare  saye  than  withouten  mys, 

The  sooner  of  hym  than  ye  shall  spede. 

With  small  tryfels  ye  must  begyn 
Of  hym  to  get  gaye  gere  in  store, 

1  i.  e.  for  thinking  of  it.     To  forihink — to  regret;  but  it  cannot 
bear  such  a  meaning  here. 

VOL.  IV.  M 


162  THE   PROUD E    WYUES 

Or  elles  of  hym  ye  shall  nought  wyne ;  220 

And  thus  may  ye  dayly  encrease  more  and  more1 

Of  gorgyous  gere  grete  plente  to  haue, 

And  all  with  his  good  wyll,  for  that  is  best, 

Yf  ye  it  so  get,  so  god  me  saue ; 

Than  may  yc  were  it  with  peas  and  rest. 

Yf  he  do  not  gyue  you  than  good  comforte, 

Speke  ye  no  more,  but  than  be  still, 
But  streight  to  his  wares  resorte, 

And  therof  take  ye  what  ye  will ; 
If  he  plaie  the  chorle,  plaie  ye  the  same, 

And  let  hym  na[t]  know  no  more  of  your  minde.  230 
God  glue  all  chorles  mekill2  shame, 

That  to  their  wyues  be  vnkinde. 

Yf  he  be  gentill,  take  nought  him  fro, 

Lytell  nor  moche  what  soeuer  betyde, 
For  if  you  do  it  wyll  tourne  you  to  wo : 

Than  folke  will  say  y*  it  cometh  of  pride  ; 
Se  what  debate  this  folke  haue  nowe, 

And  all  because  the  wife  wolde  go  gay ; 
I  swere  to  you,  bi  god  auowe, 

Ye  were  better  bide  stil  in  your  olde  araye.  240 

Therfore  beware,  be  not  rasshe3 

To  do  or  say  that  shulde  him  displease, 

1  The  three  concluding  words  of  this  line  are  omitted  by 
Utterson,  who  has  made  amends  for  leaving  out  words  here  and 
there  by  inserting  others  where  they  have  no  right  to  be. 

1  A  form  of  mickle. 

3  Both  the  metre  and  the  sense  require  rasshe,  i.  e.  rash  ;  and 
so  it  stands  in  the  original,  but  Utterson  printed  ratshe. 


PATER    NO  STEM.  163 

But  yf  he  be  churlysshe,  gjue  hym  a  dasshe,1 
Though  euer  after  it  shuld  him  disease  :2 

Amonge  his  wares  spare  not  at  all : 
For  halfe  is  yours  as  well  as  his. 

Therfore  as  nowe  counseyll  I  shal 
Gyue  vnto  you,  by  heuyns  blysse, 

To  do  euen  so,  and  be  not  afrayde 

For  lefe  nor  lothe  why  3  shulde  ye  not ;  250 

The  faute  wyll  all  to  hym  be  layde 

Of4  any  one  that  hereth  that, 
That  he  so  chorlyshe  to  you  is  aye, 

And  wyll  not  be  frendly  as  other  be, 
Grete  shame  of  hym,  than  wyll  they  saye, 

So  to  be  serued  well  worthy  is  he, 

And  worse,  be  god,  withouten  fable, 

Yf  worse  may  be  by  any  meane, 
Consyderynge  that  he  is  not  vnable, 

Yt  ought  on  you  for  to  be  sene,  260 

Somwhat  better  for  very  pure  shame, 

Than  it  is  now  by  reason  and  ryght : 
For  he  is  worthy  for  to  haue  the  blame, 

Yf  he  wyll  be  suche  a  wretched  wyght. 

He  can  not  haue  to  moche  displeasure, 

That  hath  a  yonge  wyfe  and  wyll  not  her  trym. 

1  A  mild  imprecation.     HalliwelPs  Diet,  of  Archaic  Words. 
3  i.  e.  disquiet,  disconcert. 

3  Not  in  Selden's  copy.  This  line  is  thus  printed  in  Utterson : — 

"  For  lefe  nor  locke  why  chulde  ye  not  ?  " 

4  i.  e.  By. 


164  THE   PROUDE    WYUES 

I  wysshe  them  care  and  sorow  out  of  measure, 
And  specially  them  that  be  lyke  to  hym. 

Myrrours  of  myschefe  we  may  them  call, 

That  kepe  theyr  wyues  so  bare  and  poore  270 

To  many  one  it  doth  befall 

Through  suche  meanes  to  make  a  good  wyfe  a  h — . 

An  h —  !  ye  may  it  swere  by  god  aboue, 

They  may  be  wretches  that  so  do, 
Which  causeth  theyr  wyues  to  chose  newe  loue, 

Though  it  sholde  tourne  them  to  great  wo. 
So  vylaynus  they  be  in  euery  where 

Vnto  theyr  wyues  in  euery  houre  and  tyde, 
Yf  theyr  wyues  do  go  ought  tryme  in  theyr  gere, 

They  say  they  do  it  than  for  gret  pryde.  28  o 

And  all  this  is  but  ialousy,  god  wote, 

That  thys  doth  cause,  I  know  it  well ; 
Hanged  be  suche  husbondes  by  the  throt, 

Or  elles  the  deuyll  cary  them  away  to  hel, 
That  ialous  be  eyther  erly  or  late 

Ypon  theyr  good  wyues  that  be  so  meke. 
God  sende  them  strife  and  euer  debate, 

And  a  vengeauce  vpon  them  both  day  and  weke. 

As  for  my  husbonde  I  nede  not  to  craue, 

But  fystes  and  staues,  yf  I  wyll  optayne,  290 

Ynoughe  of  them  I  may  soone  haue  ; 

Thus  dare  I  not  speake,  for  feare  of  paine, 
For  no  such  thynges,  but  I  know  another : 

I  shall  from  hym  stele  both  daye  and  night, 


PATER    NOSTER.  165 

I  swere  to  you,  by  goddes  dere  mother. 
His  bagges  I  hope  to  make  full  Ijght. 

Yf  he  may  not  se  me  than  go  gaye, 

I  thynke  nothynge1  to  tary  here, 
But  pryuele  to  gather  what  I  maye, 

And  chose  me  than  a  nother  fere,  300 

For  I  can  not  lyue  this2  in  wretchednes ; 

I  wyll  leue  hym  bare  ynow ; 
It  is  to  me  great  heuynes 

To  lede  this  lyfe,  I  make  god  auowe. 

With  that  all  syruyce  in  the  church  was  done, 

These  wyues  homewarde  dyd  take  the  waye : 
For  fast  it  drewe  than  towarde  none, 

And  so  they  departed,  and  adewe  gaue  say. 
Whan  she  came  home,  thys  sory  wyfe, 

Her  husbonde  full  mery  there  dyd  she  fynde,        310 
She  coulde  no  lenger  abyde  for  her  lyfe, 

But  nedes  vnto  hym  she  must  breke  her  mynde. 

To  proue  whether  he  wolde  be  to  her  kynde, 

She  gan  him  flatter  after  the  newe  guyse, 
And  soone  her  harte  she  gan  vnbynde, 

Sayenge  to  hym  that  in  this  wyse  : 
My  spouse  moost  worthy,  my  husbonde  dere,  [  Wife] 

I  pray  you  take  it  for  no  grefe, 
What  soeuer  of  you  I  do  desyre, 

But  gyue  my  herte  now  some  relefe.  320 


1  Douce's  copy,  according  to  Utterson,  has  not  long. 

2  i.  e.  thus. 


166  THE  PROUDE   WTUES 

As  I  hope  ye  wyll,  and  therto  be  glade, 
And  say  me  not  naye,  what  soeuer  befall, 

And  than  for  euer  I  muste  be  sade.1 
Thus  in  your  hand  it  doth  ley  all ; 

My  truste  is  hole  in  you  set. 

So  many  wyues  in  thys  parysshe  be 
That  go  full  lusste  and  trym  set ; 

A  pleasure  for  theyr  husbondes  it  is  to  se  ; 
And  nowe  me  thynke  ye  be  well  moued, 

Wherfore  the  bolder  I  to  you  speke,  330 

As  to  myne  herte  moste  best  beloued, 

Or  elles  a  sonder  myne  herte  wolde  breke : 

Desyrynge  you  with  mynde  and  wyll 

To  gyue  me  now  some  goodly  gaye  gere, 

Some  lusty  newes2  my  backe  to  hyll,3 

With  gyrdelles  and  rynge  for  your  loue  to  were, 


1  Sober,  steady. 
3  i.  e.  new  articles  of  dress. 

*  i.  e.  to  cover.    It  is  evident  that  this  lady  did  not  follow  the 
advice  given  in  the  following  lines : — 

"  And  jif  thi  neyboures  wif  haue  riche  atyire 
Ther  fore  make  you  no  stryue,  ne  bren  thou  noght  as  fyire. 
But  thanke  God  of  ye  good  y'  he  hathe  the  f  euen, 
And  so  thou  schalt,  my  good  child,  in  grete  ese  leuen." 
How  the  Goode  Wif  Thought  hir  Daughter, 
ed.  Madden,  p.  10. 

See  Morte  Arthure,  ed.  1847,  p.  94:— 

"  He  folowes  in  fersly, 
And  festenesse  a  dynte 


PATER   NOSTER.  167 

As  other  women  do  for  theyr  husbondes  loue ;' 

So  let  me  do  for  yours  I  praye 
Than  wyll  ye  bynde  me  my  selfe  to  moue 

Grete  good  of  you  alway  to  saye.  340 

I  am  not  able  to  performe  your  wyll, 

In  gyuynge  to  you  that  I  not  haue ; 
Tt  is  neyther  reason,  nor  yet  good  skyll, 

Suche  thinges  of  me  now  for  to  craue. 
Ye  se  your  selfe  that  I  do  spare, 

And  with  symple  clothes  that  I  do  go ; 
Honesty  wolde  ye  sholde  helpe  me2  care, 

And  lyke  in  parell3  that  we  sholde  go. 


Hye  upe  one  the  hanche, 
With  his  harde  wapyue, 
That  he  hillid  the  swerde 
Halfe  a  fote  large." 

And  in  Ludus  Coventria:,  ed.  1841,  p.  38,  there  is  an  example 
of  its  use  in  the  same  sense : — 

"  He  xal  hereafter  nevyr  etc  brede, 

With  this  gresse  I  xal  hym  hylle." 

1  The  following  stanza,  from  a  ballad  printed  in   Reliquiae 
Antiques,  forms  a  curious  illustration  of  this  passage : — 

"  Yff  other  men  of  goodys  have  plenty, 

And  yowre  tresowre  begynnyth, 
To  vow  sche  woll  say  full  owtragly, 

'  I  am  nojt  kept  after  myne  astate ; 

Off  gay  atyrynge  y  am  desolate  : 
Y  se  other  wymmen  go  gayer  than  y.' 

By  ware,  for  then  sche  wyll  pley  chekmate, 
But  ye  pluk  of  here  bellys,  and  let  here  fly." 

2  i.  e.  my.  *  Apparel. 


168  THE  PROUD E   WYUES 

Let  vs  lyue  as  we  haue  done  ere, 

And  passe  not  our  boundes  in  no  degre  ;  350 

To  put  our  selfe  in  great  daungere 

For  jour  small  pleasure,  it  were  grete  pite. 
How  cometh  now  suche  thynges  in  your  mynde, 

That  ye  desyre  me  to  do  suche  coste  ? 
Ye  spende  your  labour  and  wynde, 

And  all  your  wordes  be  but  lost. 

A  lacke,  good  wyfe,  were  thys  your  wyll, 

For  to  go  gay  aboue  your  estate, 
I1  wolde  be  glad  to  fulfyll 

All  your  desyre,  yf  it  were  not  to  late ;  seo 

But  I  am  farre  behynde  the  hande,2 

As  nowe,3  dere  wyfe,  more  than  I  saye. 
An  hundred  pounde,  ye  shall  vnderstande, 

Within  this  moneth  I  must  nedes  paye. 

Towarde  the  same,  wyfe,  I  ne  haue 

Twenty  pounde  in  syluer  nor  golde, 
Which  doth  make,  so  god  me  saue, 

Whan  I  theron  thinke,  mine  hert  ful  colde ; 
Therfore,  good  wyfe,  take  ther  of  no  grefe, 

For  I  am  not  able  as  thou  to  me4  requyre,  370 


1  Old  ed.  has  and.  9  i.  e.  behindhand. 

3  As  now  is  here,  and  in  another  passage  a  little  before,  em 
ployed  merely  as  equivalent  to  now  (quasi,  as  it  is  now).  We 
have  in  present  use  the  phrase  as  it  is. 

*  Uttersou  reads  the  tyme  requyre,  which  is  assuredly  nonsense. 
As  thou  of  me,  &c,  would  perhaps  be  preferable ;  but  the  author 
most  probably  wrote  to  me. 


PATER  NOSTEE.  169 

Excepte  I  sholde  ther  of  be  a  thefe, 
And  that  I  thynke  ye  wyll  not  desyre : 

For  that  were  a  shame,  I  tell  you  playne, 

As  well  for  you  as  it  were  for  me ; 
With  shame  for  my  trespas  I  sholde  be  slayne, 

And  hange  full  hye  vpon  a  tre ; 
Than  men  wolde  saye :  there  hangeth  a  thefe, 

Which  wolde  than  full  sore  greue  your  herte ; 
Yt  is  no  nede  for  to  acheue 

A  shamfull  name,  that  wolde  vs  cause  to  smarte. 

Thus  answere  she  had,  this  good  wyfe,  ssi 

That  her  herte  sonke  into  her  hose, 
And  wery  she  was  ryght  sore  of  her  lyfe, 

But  wth  her  husbond  she  dyd  no  more  glose. 
Sodeynly  she  set  her  handes  on  her  syde, 

And  sayd :  thou  caytyfe,  god  gyue  thee  wo  :  [  Wife] 

I  tell  thee  playne,  it  is  for  no  pryde, 

But  onely  with  other  wyfes  for  to  go, 

That  was  myne  entente,  and  nothynge  elles ; 

But  seynge  it  wyll  none  otherwyse  be,  390 

I  shall  make  thee  a  hode,  and  set  it  full  of  belles, 

Which  shalbe  marked  in  all  this  countre.1 
Though  euery  man  knew  it,  I  set  not  a  flye,3 

And  what  I  do  now  I  ne  care, 

1  Compare  The  Bohe  of  Mayd  Emlyn,  Princip.  (supra,  p.  83.) 
After  this  line  a  leaf,  sign,  c,  is  deficient  in  Selden's  copy, 
which  recommences  at  line  449. 

3  i.e.  I  value  it  not  at  a  fly,  I  care  not  a  fly. 


170  THE  PEOUD    WYUES 

Within  shorte  whyle  thou  shalte  well  spje 
That  I  make  thy  bagges  full  bare. 

With  that  from  the  borde  thys  wyfe  gan  go, 

And  bad  hym  beware  of  her  euyll  wyll ; 
She  sayd  for  euer  she  wolde  be  his  fo, 

And  do  her  best  hym  for  to  spyll.  400 

Therto  she  wolde  laboure  both  day  and  nyght 

With  all  the  helpe  that  she  coude  make ; 
And  that  she  coude  get  with  mayne  and  myght 

Another  sholde  spende  it  for  his  sake. 

The  man  was  wroth  herewith  ywys, 

And  wondred  full  sore  what  his  wyfe  ayled, 
He  toke  vp  hys  hande1  and  hym  dyd  blys,2 

Wenynge  to  hym3  that  her  wyttes  had  fayled ; 
But  it  was  not  so ;  on  myschefe  she  was  ; 

The  deuill  hymselfe  coude  not  her  tourne,  4io 

Though  he  with  staues  her  sholde  haue  bet, 

Which  made  full  sore  his  hert  to  mourne. 

Than  was  he  bewayled  all  in  wo, 

Kyght  pyteously  he  dyd  complayne, 
Thynkynge  alway  what  hys  wyfe  myght  do, 

Hym  thought  for  sorow  his  herte  was  slavne. 
Bycause  hys  wyfe  was  set  on  rage, 

What  best  was  to  do  he  hym  bethought, 


1   To  take  up  is  here  apparent!)'  equivalent  to  to  hold  up,  or 
raise  up. 
a  i.  e.  he  blessed  himself.  3  i.  e.  himself. 


PATER  NOSTEE.  171 

Her  furyous  anger  to  aswage  ; 

Her  mynde  he  perceyued  was  set  to  nought.         420 

Fayne  he  wolde  her  let,  this  good  honest  man, 

And  kepe  her  in  goodnes,  as  he  had  done  ere : 
Alas,  he  sayd,  no  rede 1  I  can ; 

Of  myne  vndoynge  I  stande  in  feare ; 
That  she  wyll  me  robbe  by  day  and  nyght, 

Than  farewell  my  ioye  and  my  solas  : 
Many  a  man  hath  wronge  and  moch  vnright 

Thrugh  theyr  false  wyues,  alas,  alas. 

And  so  am  I  lyke,  me  doth  thynke : 

For  such  one  is  able  a  man  to  marre ;  430 

For  thought  I  can  neyther  ete  nor  drynke, 

So  sore  is  my  hert  set  now  in  care : 
Yet  wyll  I  not  my  selfe  caste  awaye, 

Though  she  wyll  be  lewde  and  also  bad, 
With  costly  garmentes  I  wyl  not  ray, 

For  my  destruction  to  make  her  glad. 

I  thynke  she  hath  founde  some  vilaine  knaue, 
That  wyll  helpe  her  to  cary  away  my  store ; 

Yet  I  trust  that  God  wyll  me  saue, 

And  preserue  me  from  her  daunger  for  euer  more : 

For  a  cursed  wyfe  is  worse  than  a  fende :  441 

Yf  I  me  blesse 2  he  can  me  not  dere ; 3 

1  Advice.     The  speaker  means  to  say :  "  I  cannot  suggest  or 
counsel  anything  to  myself." 

2  Alluding  to  the  popular  superstition  that  a  person  protected 
himself  from  the  attack  of  an  evil  spirit  by  crossing  himself  and 
repeating  a  prayer. 

3  i.  e.  injure. 


172  THE  PROUDE   WYUES 

But  this  cursed  wyfe,  whereuer  I  wende, 
Putteth  me  in  doubte  and  great  fere. 

Wherfore  I  dare  not  go  out  of  the  dore, 

Lest  she  me  begyle,  and  go  her  waye 
With  some  lewde  knaue  to  play  the  h — , 

And  me  vndo  for  euer  and  aye : 
Yet  to  my  curate  I  wyll  hye, 

And  showe  him  of  my  grefe  what  I  do  aile,  450 
To  knowe  yf  he  [can]  remedy 

Me  of  my  wo,  or  ought  me  auayle. 

In  this  meane  while  hys  wyfe  was  gone 

Vnto  her  gossep  to  shewe  her  grefe. 
The  good  man  founde  hymselfe  alone, 

Withouten  comforte  or  relefe, 
Tha  streight  to  ye  chirch  he  gan  him  dresse 

Vnto  the  curate,  which  he  there  founde 
All  redy  reuest1  goynge  to  messe, 

And  towarde  the  aulter  he  was  bounde.  460 

This  man  abode  tyll  masse  was  done, 

For  to  take  counsayle  of  his  curate  dere ; 

Whan  he  hym  met  right  soone  anone, 
He  made  his  mone  with  heuy  chere. 

1  i.e.  robed.  Nares,  in  his  Glossary,  ed.  1859,  voce  Revest, 
gives  the  word  the  meaning  only  of  dressing  oneself  again,  and 
quotes  an  apposite  passage  from  Sylvester's  Du  Bartas.  But  see 
HalliwelFs  Diet,  of  Arch.  Words,  voce  Reveschyd.  Reveschyd 
and  revest  are  different  forms  of  the  same  word.  Mr.  Halliwell 
cites  three  passages  from  early  texts  in  which  reveschyd  is  used 
to  signify  clothed. 


PATER  NOSTER.  173 

After  all  gretynges,  to  hym  thus  he  sayd  : 

Syr,  I  requyre  of  counsayle  nowe ; 
My  wyfe  doth  make  me  so  sore  dismay  de, 

That  I  am  like  to  die,  I  make  god  auowe. 

With  shorte  conclusion  his  mater  he  tolde, 

How  it  began  and  how  it  befell  470 

Twen  him  &  his  wife,  y*  made  his  hert  cold : 

But  euer  the  preest  bad  hym  do  well, 
And  god  sholde  helpe  hym  euer  at  his  nede ; 

Yf  he  dyd  trust  vnto  his  grace, 
Alway  the  better  sholde  he  spede, 

And  heauen  at  the  last  he  sholde  purchase.1 

Yf  she  wyll  be  nought,  and  not  amende, 

And  thou  entend  euer  well  to  do, 
Good  grace  god  shall  vnto  the  sende, 

Whan  she  shall  lyue  in  care  and  wo ;  480 

Go  thy  way  home,  and  take  no  thought, 

But  euer  take  hede  what  so  befall ; 
For  such  one  as  doth  set  her  to  nought, 

To  vndo  a  man  she  careth  not  at  all. 

Thys  man  dyd  after  the  curates  rede,2 
And  home  full  soone  he  dyd  him  hast ; 

But  whan  he  came  ther  his  herte  did  bled ; 
He  spyed  that  his  labour  was  all  in  wast, 

And  that  his  wyfe  had  ben  there  before 

And  spoyled  all  that  she  myght  cary  490 

1  i.  e.  acquire,  obtain. 

2  i.  e.  advice,  as  in  an  earlier  passage.     See  line  423. 


174  THE  PROUDE   WYUES 

Of  short  endes  <fe  mony  that  he  had  in  store, 
No  longer  with  him  that  she  wolde  vary. 

Thus  was  the  good  man  vndone  for  euer. 

God  gyue  all  suche  wyues  care  ! 
For  after  that  day  he  sawe  her  neuer  ; 

But  of  his  welth  she  made  hym  bare. 
Now  Jesu,  that  is  heuen  kynge, 

Graunt  all  good  wyues,  that  fayne  wolde  do  well, 
The  ioyes  of  heauen  at  theyr  endynge, 

And  to  be  preserued  fro  the  paynes  of  hell.  500 

Suche  Pater  noster  some  wyues  do  saye ; 

Another  were  better  for  the  soule  helth, 
As  here  doth  folowe  so  sholde  ye  praye, 

And  than  ye  sholde  euer  lyue  in  welth. 


PATER  NOSTEE.  175 


C  ^ere  after  folotoetf)  tje  goto[Ur]ni 
of  tieuocum. 


THE  father  of  heuen  omnipotent, 
Of  nought  all  this  worlde  djd  create  ; 
In  paradyse  he  made  Adam  a  pure  innocent, 

And  for  his  comfort  Eue  to  hym  was  assocyate. 
The  serpent  by  fraude  made  them  obstynate,  509 

Wherby  they  loste  their  mansyon,1  ioye  and  blysse, 
Tyll  by  thy  mercy  they  were  regenerate  — 
Pater  noster  qui  es  in  celis. 

O  blessed  Lorde,  of  thy  grete  boutye  and  gooduesse, 

That  sent  thine  owne  sonne  to  be  incarnate, 
The  oryginall  synne  of  Adam  to  redresse 

By  vertue  of  deth  of  Chryst  immaculate, 
Which  is  our  brother  by  proue2  cartyficate, 

And  thou  our  father  throughout  chrystendome  ; 
Wherfore  let  vs  merely3  without  debate 

Synge  —  Sanctificetur  nomen  tuum.  520 

Chryst  Jesu  our  kynge  and  his  mother  dere 
Be  in  our  nede  our  socour  and  comforte, 

Our  soules  from  synne  to  preserue  clere, 
That  the  flame  of  charyte  in  vs  reporte  ; 

1  Abiding-place.         3  i.  e.  proof.         *  Entirely,  wholly. 


176  THE  PROUDE   WTUES 

To  whom  that  we  may  resorte 

With  blisful  armony  both  all  and  summe, 

Swete  Jesus  for  vs  exhorte 

That  vnto  us — Adueniat  regnum  tuum. 

Infuse  vs  with  grace,  Lorde,  in  contynauce, 

In  euery  malady,  pouerty  and  tribulacio ;  530 

Perfite  patience  to  kepe  thy  perseuerauce 

For  any  wrongfull  trouble  or  vexacion, 
That  we  without  grudge  or  exclamacion 

Say  and  pray — Fiat  voluntas  tua, 
Hygh  and  low  thy  myght[y]  operacyon, 

So  be  it  sicut  in  celo  et  in  terra. 

Vpon  shere  thursdae1  thy  dyscyples  thou  fedde 

In  fourme  of  brede  with  thyne  owne  deite, 
By  vertue  of  the  wordes  of  thy  godhed, 

Bade  them  thyne  owne  body  accipite,  640 

And  eate ;  which  for  you  betrayed  shalbe, 

A  preseruatif  against  deth  moost  holsome, 
Our  petition,  good  Lorde — da  nobis  Jiodye 

That  same  panem  nostrum  cotidianum. 

Whan2  mortall  sinne  hath3  vs  deuoured, 
And  haue  forgoten  thy  holy  conuersacion, 

Yet  let  vs  not  vtterly  be  confounded, 

Whom  thou  [re]demyd  by  thy  bytter  passion, 

1  i.  e.   Shere-Thursday,  the  Thursday  before  Easter.      It  is 
also  known  as  Maundy-Thursday. 

3  This  word  seems  here  to  signify  although. 
3  Old  ed.  has  had. 


PATER  N  OS  TEE.  177 

But  wasshe  vs  with  penaunce  by  full  contrition, 

Thou  one  and  thre,  trinitas  sancta,  550 

Whan  we  require  the  by  proclamation — 
Et  dimitte  nobis  debita  nostra. 

Yf  any  creature  hath  vs  offended 

And  trespasset,  forgyue  we  all  those, 
That  theyr  offence  may  be  amended, 

Our  mercy  and  pyte  to  them  dysclose. 
That  whan  to  God  our  passage  purpose, 

Of  his1  mercy  aboundant  we  may  not  mys. 
Forgiue  vs,  good  Lorde,  sicut  ut  nus 

Dimittimus  debitoribus  nostris.  560 


Another  petition  wee  ask  of  or  father, 

That  wee  bee  not  ouercome  by  tentation  : 
But  wee  to  Christ  or  own  broder, 

Call  for  ayd,  and  obtain  remission, 
And  of  our  synnes  clean  to  haue  absolution, 

By  merit  of  the  bright  ster  of  Betheleem, 
To  whome  wee  pray  wth  humble  deuotion — 

Et  ne  nos  inducas  in  tentationem. 

The  father,  the  sonne,  and  the  holy  ghost, 

Thre  persons  undiuyded,  and  one  in  essence,        570 

Make  in  vs  Trinite  by  thy  power  most, 

Thy  body,  thy  soule,  thy  godhed  in  presence ; 


Old  ed.  reads,  unnecessarily,  That  of. 

N 


178   PROUDE  WYUES  PATEE  NO  STEM. 

So  conserue  vs  here  in  thy  absence 
To  vse  well  fyue,  and  obserue  well  ten, 

That  deedly  synne  combre  not  our  conscyence — 
Sed  libera  nos  a  malo*     Amen.1 


C  ImjmntetJ  at  Hontoon  m  $aules 

at  tje  Sggne  of  tje  Stoane  fig  gojn 


1  I  would  willingly  have  excluded  this  wretched  doggerel,  if 
I  could  have  done  so  without  affecting  the  integrity  of  the  poem, 
to  which  it  is  appended. 


&  mere?  3Ee#te 
of  a  »>fjt:eVDtJe  and  curate  (LOJpfe  lappeU  in 


TTERE  begynneth  a  merry  leste  of  a  shrewde  and  curste  Wyfe, 
-*--•-  lapped  in  Morrelles  skin,  for  her  good  behauyour.  Imprinted 
at  London  in  Fleetestrete,  beneath  the  Conduite,  at  the  signe  of 
Saint  John  Euangelist,  by  H.  Jackson"  n.  d.  4  to.  23  leaves. 

No  other  impression  of  this  tract  has  been  discovered,  and  as 
it  is  described  by  Laneham,  in  his  letter  from  Kenilworth,  as  being 
already  in  print  in  1575,  it  probably  preceded,  by  at  least  twenty 
years,  the  old  drama  of  "The  Taming  of  a  Shrew,"  1594,  4to, 
with  which,  however,  it  has  little  in  common  except  the  subject. 
The  same  may  be  said  of  its  relation  to  Shakespeare's  play,  first 
printed  in  the  folio  of  1623.  In  one  important  respect,  the  play 
of  1594  differs  from  the  poem,  and  it  is  that  while  the  latter  re 
lates  to  persons  in  a  humble  walk  of  life,  the  characters  in  the 
play  are  represented  as  occupying  a  high  station. 

The  present  tale  is  valuable  as  a  record  and  illustration  of  the 
manners  of  the  lower  classes  in  England,  to  which,  as  might  be 
expected,  satirists  have  not  devoted  so  much  attention  as  to  more 
elevated  society.  Mr.  Uttersou  included  it  in  his  Sekct  Pieces  of 
Early  Popular  Poetry,  1817,  but  did  not  print  it  at  all  correctly. 
It  has  also  been  edited  for  the  Shakespeare  Society. 

A  ballad  called  "  The  Taming  of  a  Shrew,"  is  printed  in  Kit- 
son's  Ancient  Songs  and  Ballads,  1829,  ii.  242,  from  one  of  the 
Sloane  MSS.  It  seems  to  be  a  production  compiled  from  a 
variety  of  materials,  and  one  of  the  salient  features  in  it  is  bor- 


180  TEE    WIFE  LAPPED 

rowed  from  the  Jests  of  Scogin,  licensed  in  1565.  See  Old  Eng 
lish  Jest-Books,  ed.  Hazlitt,  ii.  91,  97. 

There  are  incidents  in  some  of  the  ancient  Fabliaux  collected 
by  Le  Grand  and  Renouard,  which  seem  to  have  furnished  hints 
to  the  writer  of  this  tale.  See,  for  example,  those  "  Du  Vilain 
et  de  sa  Femme,"  and  "  Du  Prud'homme  qui  renvoya  sa 
Femme,"  both  printed  in  Renouard's  edition,  iii.  181-3. 

Skelton  employs  Morel  as  the  name  of  a  horse  in  his  Diuers 
Balettys  §•  Dyties  Solacyous  (Works,  i.  24) ;  but  in  one  of  his 
Poems  against  Garnesche,  the  same  writer  appears  to  use  it  in  a 
loose  sense,  as  a  term  of  opprobrium : — 

"  Gup,  marmeset,  jost  ye,  morelle! 
I  am  laureat,  I  am  no  lorelle." 


1"  ffiw  iSeggnnetf)  a  merrg  loste  of  a 
ant  (Ruwte  S2Egfe  lappet  in  JEorellw  sfctn 
for  jer  soot  foejaugour, 

|YSTEN  friendes,  and  holde  you  still, 
Abide  a  while  and  dwell : 
A  mery  Jest  tell  you  I  will, 
And  how  that  it  befell. 

As  I  went  walking  vpon  a  day, 

Among  my  friendes  to  sporte  : 

To  an  house  I  tooke  the  way, 

To  rest  me  for  my  comforte. 

A  greate  feast  was  kepte  there  than, 

And  many  one  was  thereat :  10 


IN  MOEEELLES  SKIN.  181 

With  wyues  and  maydens,  and  many  a  good  man, 

That  made  good  game  and  chat. 

It  befell  then  at  that  tyde 

An  honest  man  was  there  : 

A  cursed  Dame  sate  by  his  syde, 

That  often  did  him  dere. 

His  wife  she  was,  I  tell  you  playne, 

This  dame  ye  may  me  trowe, 

To  play  the  maister  she  would  not  layne, 

And  make  her  husband  bo  we.  20 

At  euery  word  that  she  did  speake, 

To  be  peace  he  was  full  fayne  : 

Or  else  she  would  take  him  on  the  cheeke, 

Or  put  him  to  other  payne. 

When  she  did  winke,  he  durste  not  store, 

Nor  play  where  euer  he  wente : 

With  friend  or  neighbour  to  make  good  chere, 

Whan  she  her  browes  bente. 

These  folke  had  two  maydens  fayre  and  free, 

Which  were  their  Daughters  dere  :  30 

This  is  true,  beleeue  you  me, 

Of  condiciflae  was  none  their  pere. 

The  yongest  was  meeke  and  gentle  y-wys, 
Her  Fathers  sayd  condicion  she  had : 
The  eldest  her  mothers  withouten  misse, 
Sometime  franticke,  and  sometime  mad. 
The  father  had  his  pleasure  in  the  one  alway, 
And  glad  he  was  her  to  behold  : 


182  THE  WIFE  LAPPED 

The  mother  in  the  other,  this  is  no  nay, 

For  in  all  her  curstnesse  she  made  her  bolde.         40 

And  at  the  last  she  was,  in  fay, 

As  curste  as  her  mother  in  word  and  deede, 

Her  mischieuous  pageauntes  sometime  to  play, 

Which  caused  her  fathers  heart  to  bleede : 

For  he  was  woe  and  nothing  glad, 

And  of  her  would  fayne  be  rid : 

He  wished  to  God  that  some  man  her  had, 

But  yet  to  maryage  he  durst  her  not  bid. 

Full  many  there  came  the  yongest  to  haue, 

But  her  father  was  loth  her  to  forgoe  :  so 

None  there  came  the  eldest  to  craue, 

For  feare  it  should  turne  them  to  woe. 

The  Father  was  loth  any  man  to  beguile, 

For  he  was  true  and  iust  withall, 

Yet  there  came  one  within  a  while, 

That  her  demaunded  in  the  Hall. 

Another  there  came  right  soone  also, 

The  yongest  to  haue  he  would  be  fayne, 

Which  made  the  fathers  heart  full  woe, 

That  he  and  the  yongest  should  parte  in  twa^ne.    eo 

But  the  mother  was  fell,  and  might  her  not  see, 

Wherefore  of  her  she  would  haue  bene  rid. 

The  yong  man  full  soone  she  graunted  pardy ; 

Greate  Golde  and  syluer  with  her  she  bid. 

Saying,  full  soone  he  would  her  haue, 
And  wedded  they  were,  short  tale  to  make : 


IN  MOREELLES  SKIN.  183 

The  Father  sayd :  so  God  me  saue, 

For  heauinesse  and  sorrowe  I  tremble  and  quake. 

Also  his  hearte  was  in  greate  care, 

How  he  should  bestowe  the  eldest  y  wys ;  70 

Which  should  make  his  purse  full  bare. 

Of  her  he  would  be  rid  by  heauens  biisse. 

As  hap  was,  that  this  yong  man  should 

Desyre  the  eldest  withouten  fayle  : 

To  maryage  he  sayd  full  fayne  he  would, 

That  he  might  her  haue  for  his  auayle.1 

The  father  sayd  with  wordes  anon : 

Golde  and  syluer  I  would  thee  giue : 

If  thou  her  marry,  by  sweete  saynt  John,2 

But  thou  shouldest  repent  it  all  thy  Hue.3  so 

She  is  conditioned,  I  tell  thee  playne, 
Moste  like  a  Fiend,  this  is  no  nay : 

1  Here  avayle  seems  to  signify  rather  pleasure  than  profit, 
which  is  its  more  usual  sense ;  but,  indeed,  it  is  one  of  those 
words  which  was  apparently  held  by  early  writers  to  have  no 
fixed  or  peremptory  meaning: — 

"  They  hold  your  blessinge  in  no  more  avayle, 
Then  is  the  flapping  of  a  fox  his  taile." 

Taylor's  Suddaine  Turne  of  Fortune's  Wheele. 

2  "  And  whosoere  can  get  hir  firme  good  will, 

A  large  dowrie  he  shall  be  sure  to  haue : 
For  her  father  is  a  man  of  mightie  wealth, 
And  an  ancient  Cittizen  of  the  towne." 

The  Taming  of  a  Shrew,  1594. 

3  "  And  he  that  hath  hir  shall  be  fettred  so, 

As  good  be  wedded  to  the  Diuell  him  selfe." 

Ibid. 


184  THE  WIFE  LAPPED 

Her  Mother  doth  teach  her,  withouten  layne, 
To  be  mayster  of  her  husband  another  day. 
If  thou  shouldest  her  marry,  and  with  her  not  gree, 
Her  mother  thou  shouldest  haue  alway  in  thy  top : 
By  night  and  day  that  shouldest  vex  thee, 
Which  sore  would  sticke  then  in  thy  crop. 

And  I  could  not  amend  it,  by  God  of  might, 

For  I  dare  not  speake  my  selfe  for  my  life :  90 

Sometime  among,  be  it  wrong  or  right, 

I  let  her  haue  all  for  feare  of  strife. 

If  I  ought  say,  she  doth  me  treate, 

Except  I  let  her  haue  her  will, 

As  a  childe  that  shoulde  be  beate 

She  will  me  charme :  the  Deuill  her  kill. 

Another  thing  thou  must  vnderstande, 

Her  mother's  good  will  thou  must  haue  also : 

If  she  be  thy  friend,  by  sea  or  by  lande 

Amisse  with  thee  then  can  it  not  go.  100 

For  she  doth  her  loue  with  all  her  minde, 

And  would  not  see  her  fare  amisse  : 

If  thou  to  her  dareling  could  be  kinde, 

Thou  couldest  not  want,  by  heauens  blisse. 

If  thou  to  the  mother  now  wilt  seeke, 
Behaue  thy  selfe  then  like  a  man : 
And  shew  thy  selfe  both  humble  and  meeke, 
But  when  thou  haste  her,  doe  what  thou  can. 
Thou  wotest  what  I  sayd  to  thee  before, 


IN  MORRELLES  SKIN.  185 

I  counsayle  thee  marke  my  wordes  well :  no 

It  were  greate  pitty  thou  werte  forlore 
With  such  a  deuillishe  Fende  of  Hell.1 


I  care  not  ftfr  that,  the  yong  man  sayd : 

If  I  can  get  the  mothers  good  will, 

I  would  be  glad  to  haue  that  mayde ; 

Me  thinketh  she  is  withouten  ill.2 

Alas !  good  man,  I  am  sorry  for  thee, 

That  thou  wilt  cast  thy  selfe  away, 

Thou  arte  so  gentle  and  so  free  : 

Thou  shalt  neuer  tame  her,  I  dare  well  say.  120 

But  I  haue  done,  I  will  say  no  more, 
Therfore  farewell,  and  goe  thy  way  : 
Eemember  what  I  sayd  to  thee  before, 
And  beware  of  repentaunce  another  day. 


tje  gonjj  man  fcepattefo  from  tfje  dFatfjer, 
sougjt  to  tje  JHotjer,  for  to  ijaue  tije 
magfce  to 


N 


OW  is  the  yong  man  come  to  the  dame, 
With  countenaunce  glad  and  manners  demure, 


1  Here  forty  lines  are  wanting  in  the  copy  which  belonged  to 
Selden.     They  were  supplied  from  a  second  one  formerly  in  the 
Heber  collection. 

2  Old  ed.  has  evell. 


186  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

Saying  to  her :   God  keepe  you  from  blame, 

With  your  dere  daughter  so  fay  re  and  pure. 

She  welcommeth  agayne  the  fayre  yong  man, 

And  bid  him  come  neare,  gentle  friende.  iso 

Full  curteously  he  thanked  the  good  dame  than, 

And  thought  her  wordes  full  good  and  kinde. 

Then  he  began,  I  shall  you  tell, 

Unto  the  mother  thus  to  say, 

With  wordes  fayre,  that  become  him  well, 

For  her  deare  daughter  thus  to  pray. 

Saying :  good  dame,  now  by  your  leaue, 

Take  it  for  none  euell  though  I  come  here : 

If  you  to  me  good  leaue  would  giue, 

With  you  right  fayne  would  I  make  good  chere.        140 

The  dame  sayd :  syt  downe,  a  while  abyde, 
Good  chere  anon  than  will  we  make : 
My  daughter  shall  sit  downe  by  thy  syde, 
I  know  well  thou  commest  onely  for  her  sake. 
You  say  full  true  forsooth,  sayd  he  ; 
My  minde  is  stedfastly  on  her  set : 
To  haue  that  mayde  fayre  and  free 
I  would  be  fayne,  if  I  coulde  her  get. 

The  mother  thanked  him  for  his  good  will, 

That  he  her  daughter  so  did  desyre,  iso 

Saying :  I  hope  you  come  for  none  euell, 

But  in  good  honesty  her  to  requyre. 

For  if  ye  did,  I  will  be  playne, 

Eight  soone  it  should  turne  you  vnto  griefe, 


IN  MOEEELLES  SKIN.  187 

And  also  your  comming  I  would  disdayne, 
And  bid  you  walke  with  a  wylde  mischiefs.1 

But  surely  I  take  you  for  none  of  those, 

Your  condittons  shew  it  in  no  wise : 

Wherefore  me  thinke  you  doe  not  glose, 

Nor  I  will  not  counsell  you,  by  mine  aduise.  ieo 

For  I  loue  my  Daughter  as  my  harte, 

And  loth  I  were,  I  will  be  playne, 

To  see  her  suffer  payne  and  smarte ; 

For  if  I  did,  my  harte  were  slayne. 

If  that  thou  shouldest,  another  day, 

My  daughter  haue,  and  her  good  will : 

Order  her  then  vnto  her  pay, 

As  reason  requireth,  it  is  good  skill. 

In  women  sometyme  great  wisdome  is, 

And  in  men  full  little  it  is  often  seene  ;  170 

But  she  is  wise  withouten  mis, 

From  a  yong  child  vp  she  hath  so  beene. 

Therefore  to  her  thou  must  audience  giue, 
For  thine  owne  profite,  when  she  doth  speake, 
And  than  shalt  thou  in  quiet  Hue, 
And  much  strife  thus  shalte  thou  breake. 


i.  e.  with  a  vengeance.     This  is  an  old  form  of  expression. 

"  For  to  the  teith  he  did  him  cleif. 
Lat  him  ly  thare  with  ane  mischeif." 

Lyndsay's  Historic  of  Squyer  Meldrum, 
(Works,  by  Chalmers,  ii.  250). 


188  THE  WIFE  LAPPED 

Howe  sayest  them,  yong  man,  what  i[s]  thy  minde, 

Wouldest  thou  her  haue,  my  doughter  dere  ? 

Than  to  her  thou  must  be  kinde, 

And  alway  ready  to  make  her  good  chere.  iso 

For  an  C.  li.  of  money  haue  thou  shalte, 

Of  Syluer  and  eke  of  Golde  so  round, 

With  an  C.  quarters  of  Corne  and  malte, 

And  xl.  acres  of  good  ground : 

If  thou  wilt  liue  with  her  like  a  man, 

Thou  shalte  her  haue,  and  this  will  I  giue : 

And  euer  after,  while  I  can, 

Be  thy  good  Mother  as  long  as  I  liue. 

And  I  will  speake  to  my  daughter  for  thee, 

To  know  if  it  be  her  will  also :  190 

If  she  be  content,  my  daughter  free, 

Then  together  may  ye  go. 

The  mother  demaunded  her  daughter  than, 

If  that  she  could  fynde  in  her  minde 

With  all  her  harte  to  loue  that  yong  man, 

So  that  he  to  her  would  be  kinde. 

She  sayd :  yea,  mother,  as  you  wyll, 

So  will  I  doe  in  worde  and  deede  : 

I  trust  he  commeth  for  none  yll, 

Therefore  the  better  may  we  speede.  200 

But  I  would  haue  one  that  hath  some  good, 

As  well  as  I,  good  reason  is : 

Me  thinke  he  is  a  lusty  blood, 

But  gooddes  there  must  be  withouten  misse. 


IN  MOERELLES  SKIN.  189 

The  yong  man  was  glad  these  wordes  to  here, 
And  thanked  the  mother  of  her  good  will  : 
Beholding  the  Mayden  with  right  mild  cheare, 
And  prayed  her  hartely  to  be  still. 
Saying  to  her  then  in  this  wise  : 
Mine  heart,  my  loue,  my  dearling  deare,  210 

Take  no  displeasure  of  my  enterprise, 
That  I  desyre  to  he  your  peare. 

I  am  not  riche  of  Gold  nor  fee, 

Nor  of  greate  marchandise,  ye  shall  vnderstand, 

But  a  good  Crafte  I  haue,  pardee, 

To  get  our  liuing  in  any  land. 

And  in  my  heart  I  can  well  fynde 

You  for  to  loue  ahoue  all  other : 

For  euermore  to  you  to  be  kynde, 

And  neuer  forsake  you  for  none  other.  220 

Lyke  a  woman  I  will  you  vse, 

And  doe  ;you  honour,  as  ye  should  doe  me : 

And  for  your  sake  all  other  refuse, 

As  good  reason  is  it  should  so  be. 

By  my  trouth,  but  well  you  say, 

And  me  thinke  by  your  countenaunce  ywis  : 

That  ye  should  not  another  day 

For  no  cause  deale  with  me  amis. 

And  in  you  I  hope  pleasure  to  take, 

If  ye  woulde  be  gentle  as  ye  should  :  230 

And  neuer  none  other  for  your  sake 

To  marry  for  a  M.  pound  of  gold. 


190  THE  WIFE  LAPPED 

But  sometime  ye  must  me  a  little  forbeare, 
For  I  am  hasty  ;  but  it  is  soone  done. 
In  my  fume  I  doe  nothing  feare, 
Whatsoeuer  thereof  to  me  become. 

An    I  cannot  refrayne  me  in  no  wise, 

For  I  haue  it  by  nature  a  parte  y  wis.  240 

It  was  wonte  to  be  my  mothers  guise, 

Sometime  to  be  mayster  withouten  misse. 

And  so  must  I,  by  God,  now  and  than, 

Or  else  I  would  thinke  it  should  not  be  well ; 

For  though  ye  were  neuer  so  good  a  man, 

Sometime  among  I  will  beare  the  bell. 

And  therefore  tell  me  with  wordes  playne, 

If  ye  can  be  pacient  what  time  it  is, 

To  suffer  with  me  a  little  payne, 

Though  that  you  thinke  I  doe  amisse  ?  250 

Or  else  say  nay,  and  make  a  shorte  ende, 

And  soone  we  shall  asonder  departe : 

Then  at  your  liberty  you  may  hence  wend, 

Yet  I  doe  loue  you  with  all  my  harte. 

The  yong  man  was  glad  of  her  loue,  in  fay, 

But  loth  he  was  master  her  for  to  make, 

And  bethought  him  what  her  father  before  did  saye, 

When  he  on  wooing  his  iorney  did  take. 

And  so  consented  to  all  her  will, 

When  he  aduised  him  what  he  should  doe :  200 

He  sayd :  ye  may  me  saue  or  spill, 

For  ye  haue  my  loue,  sweete  heart,  and  no  moe. 


IN  MOEEELLES  SKIN.  191 

The  mother,  hearing  this,  for  the  father  sente, 

Shewing  to  him  what  was  befall : 

Wherewith  he  was  right  well  content, 

Of  all  their  promises  in  generall. 

Upon  this  greement  they  departed  then, 

To  prepare  all  thinges  for  the  feast : 

Glad  was  the  bride  and  her  spouse  then, 

That  they  w.ere  come  to  this  beheast.  270 


?$otoe  tje  iSrgfce  toas  margrti  tottf)  fjer  dFatfjer 
antr  JHotjers  goofc  togll* 


E  day  approched,  the  time  drue  ueare, 
JL       That  they  should  be  wedded  withouten  misse  : 
The  Bryde  was  glad  and  made  good  cheare, 
For  she  thought  to  make  greate  ioye  and  blisse. 
As  that  daye  to  tryumphe  with  games  and  sporte, 
Among  her  friendes  a  rule  to  beare  : 
Arid  eake  with  his  friendes  that  thether  should  resorte, 
Thinking  that  no  body  might  be  her  peare. 

The  Bridegrome  was  glad  also,  in  fay, 

As  man  might  be  vpon  the  molde  ;  1  aso 


1  Earth.     Molde  (mould)  is  constantly  used  in  this  sense  in 
early  writings.     Thus,  in  Ludus  Coventria,  ed.  1841,  p.  1,  we 

find : — 

"  We  xal  £ou  shewe,  as  that  we  kan, 
How  that  this  wer[l]d  ffyrst  began, 
And  how  God  made  bothe  molde  and  man." 


192  THE  WIFE  LAPPED 

And  to  himselfe  thus  gan  he  say  : 

Now  shall  I  receyue  an  heape  of  goldc, 

Of  poundes  many  one  and  much  goods  besyde, 

To  reioyce  my  sorrowes  and  also  my  smarte  : 

I  know  not  her  peare  in  this  country  so  wyde, 

But  yet  I  feare  alway  her  proude  harte. 

She  is  so  syb 1  to  the  mother  withouten  fayle, 

Which  hath  no  peare  that  I  know : 

In  all  mischiefs  she  dare  assayle, 

The  boldest  Archer  that  shooteth  in  a  bow.  290 

But,  no  force,  I  care  not,  I  wote  what  I  thinke ; 

When  we  be  wed  and  keepe  house  alone, 

For  a  small  storme  I  may  not  shrinke, 

To  run  to  my  neighbour,  to  make  my  mone. 

Soone  to  the  church  now  were  they  brought, 
With  all  their  friends  them  about : 
There  to  be  maryed  as  they  ought, 
And  after  them  followed  a  full  great  rout, 


1  Dear. 

"  Now  have  we  lost  a  trusty  ffrende, 
The  sybbest  blood  of  oure  kynreed." 

Ludus  Covcntrice,  ed.  1841,  p.  226. 

"  I  be-seke  £ow  syr 
As  my  sybbe  lorde — " 

Morte  Arthurs,  ed.  1847,  p.  58. 

But  see  HalliwelFs  Archaic  Dictionary,  art.  SlB : — 

"  In  Robin  Goodfellow  His  Mad  Pranks  and  Merry  Jests,  1628, 
one  of  the  fairies  is  called  SIB." 


IN  MOERELLES  SKIN.  193 

With  them  to  offer,  as  custome  is : 

Among  good  neighboures  it  is  alvvay  seene  ;  soq 

Full  richly  deckte  withouten  mis, 

And  she  thought  her  selfe  most  likest  a  Queene. 

Incontinent,  when  the  Masse  was  done, 

Homeward  forsooth  they  tooke  the  way  : 

There  followeth  after  them  right  soone 

Many  a  tall  man  and  woman  full  gay. 

The  fathers  and  mothers  next  of  all 

Unto  the  Bridgrome  and  Bryde  also  : 

As  to  them  then  it  did  befall 

With  them  that  tyde  so  for  to  go.  310 


1T  J^oto  tfje  13tgfoe  anfc  fjer  frienties  came  from 
tlje  (ftfjutcf),  antr  toere  of  tjje  iStgfoegtoome  at 
tjetr  feast  Jonestlj) 


WHEN"  they  came  home,  the  hordes  were  spread  ; 
The  Bride  was  set  at  the  hye  dysse  : 
Euery  one  sayd,  she  had  well  sped 
Of  such  a  fayre  husband  as  serued  her  mysse. 
The  friendes  sate  about  her  on  euery  syde, 
Each  in  their  order,  a  good  syght  to  see, 
The  Bryde  in  the  middest  with  much  pryde, 
Full  richely  beseene  she  was  pardye. 

The  mother  was  right  glad  of  this  sight, 
And  fast  she  did  her  daughter  behold  :  320 

o 


194  THE  WIFE  LAPPED 

Thinking  it  was  a  pleasaunt  wight ; 
But  alway  her  Fathers  heart  was  cold. 
When  he  remembred,  what  might  befall 
Of  this  yong  Daughter,  that  was  so  bold, 
He  could  nothing  be  merry  at  all, 
But  moned  the  yong  man  full  many  a  fold. 

Beholding  him1  often  with  countenaunce  sad 

Saying  to  himselfe  :  alas,  this  day  ! 

This  youg  man  proueth  much  worse  then  mad, 

That  he  hath  marryed  this  cursed  may.  330 

Where  I  haue  counsayled  him,  by  heauens  blisse, 

That  he  should  not  meddle  in  no  wise ; 

Least  he  repented  withouten  misse, 

That  euer  he  made  this  enterprise. 

But  seeing  it  is  thus,  selfe  doe  selfe  haue, 

He  is  worse  then  mad  that  will  him  mone : 

For  I  will  no  more,  so  God  me  saue  ; 

But  God  send  him  ioy  with  my  daughter  Jone. 

She  is  as  curste,  I  dare  well  swere, 

And  as  angry  y  wis  as  euer  was  waspe ;  340 

If  he  her  anger,  she  will  him  tere, 

And  with  her  nayles  also  him  claspe. 

What  auayleth  it  to  say  ought  now  ? 
The  deede  is  done ;  no  remedy  there  is. 
Good  cheare  to  make,  I  make  God  auowe, 
Is  now  the  best  withouten  misse. 

1  Old  ed.  has  Beholde,  how. 


IN  MOERELLES  SKIN.  195 

For  now  is  the  time  it  should  so  be, 

To  make  good  game  and  sporte,  in  fay, 

In  comforting  all  this  company, 

That  be  assembled  here  this  day.  350 

The  father  and  mother  were  dilligent  still 
To  welcome  the  friendes  both  more  and  lesse ; 
The  yongman  did  also  his  good  will 
To  serue  them  well  at  euery  messe. 
Wherein  the  mother  great  pleasure  tooke, 
And  so  did  the  father  eake  truely ; 
The  Bride  gaue  a  friendly  looke, 
Casting  on  him  a  wanton  eye. 

Then  was  the  Brydegrome  reioysed  sore, 

Alway  our  Lord  thanking  of  his  great  grace ;       360 

Hauing  in  minde  times  many  a  score, 

That  his  Bryde  shewed  him  such  a  fayre  place. 

The  mynstrelles  played  at  euery  bord, 

The  people  therewith  reioysed  right  well : 

Geuing  the  Bridegrome  their  good  word, 

And  the  bryde  also,  that  in  bewty  did  excell. 

The  time  past  forth,  the  dinner  was  done, 

The  tables  were  taken  vp  all : 

The  Brydegroome  welcommed  them  euery  ech  one, 

That  were  there  in  the  hall.  370 

They  thanked  him  then  and  the  Bryde  also, 

Of  their  greate  cheare  they  had  : 

And  sware  great  othes,  so  mote  I  go, 

They  were  neuer  at  feast  so  glad. 


196  THE  WIFE  LAPPED 

Nbwe  we  will  remember  you,  or  we  depart, 

As  vse  and  custome  doth  requjre ; 

He  thanked  them  with  all  his  harte : 

So  did  both  dame  and  syre. 

The  Bryde  to  the  Table  agayne  was  set, 

To  keepe  countenaunce  than  in  deede.  sso 

The  friendes  that  were  together  met 

Be-gyfted  them  richely  with  right  good  speede. 

The  father  and  the  mother  fyrst  began 

To  order  them  in  this  wise : 

The  Brydegrome  was  set  by  the  Brydes  syde  than, 

After  the  countrey  guise. 

Then  the  father  the  fyrst  present  brought, 

And  presented  them  there  richly,  in  fay, 

With  deedes  of  his  land  in  a  boxe  well  wrought, 

And  made  them  his  heyres  for  aye.  390 

He  gaue  them  also  of  malte  and  corne 

An  hundred  quarters  and  more  : 

With  sheepe  and  oxen,  that  bare  large  home, 

To  keepe  for  household  store. 

And  then  came  the  mother  as  quick  as  a  bee, 

To  the  Brydegrome  with  wordes  smart : 

Saying :  sonne,  so  mote  I  thee, 

I  must  open  to  thee  my  harte. 

She  gaue  them  also  both  carte  and  plow, 

And  bid  them  alway  to  doe  well,  400 

And  God  should  send  them  good  ynow, 

If  they  did  marke  what  she  did  tell. 


IN  MOERELLES  SKIN.  197 

Before  the  people  in  this  Hall, 

I  will  say  and  to  thee  rehearse  : 

An  hundred  pound  now  geue  thee  I  shall, 

But  harken  fyrst  vnto  my  vearse. 

Thou  haste  here  my  daughter  deare, 

A  pleasaunt  thing  it  is  ; 

In  all  the  countrey  I  know  not  her  peare, 

So  haue  I  parte  of  blisse.  410 

For  she  is  wyse,  and  fay  re  with  all, 

And  will  nothing  cast  away  ; 

I  trow  there  be  now  none  in  this  hall, 

That  better  can  saue  all  thing,  in  fay. 

Nor  better  doth  know  what  doth  behoue 

Unto  an  house  or  huswiuery, 

Then  she  doth,  which  causeth  me  to  moue 

This  matter  to  thee  so  busily. 

She  can  carde,  she  can  spin, 

She  can  thresh,  and  she  can  fan  ;  420 

She  can  helpe  thee  good  to  win, 

For  to  keepe  thee  like  a  man. 

And  here  is  an  hundred  pound  in  Grolde 

To  set  thee  vp,  thy  crafte  to  vse  : 

Wherefore  (I  am  playne)  I  would  thou  should 

In  no  maner  of  wise  thy  selfe  abuse. 

To  striue  with  my  daughter,  or  her  to  intreate 

For  any  thing  that  she  shall  doe 

Here  after,  my  child  therefore  to  beate, 


It  should  turne  playnely  to  thy  pre^e  woe.  430 


198  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

0  my  deare  mother,  take  no  displeasure, 
Till  you  haue  cause,  what  so  befall ; 
But  vse  your  selfe  alwaye  by  measure : 
For  other  cause  none  haue  you  shall. 
My  wyfe  and  I  full  well  shall  gree, 

1  trust  to  God  in  throne : 

She  is  my  loue,  and  euer  shall  be, 
And  none  but  she  alone. 

0  my  deare  sonne,  thou  makest  me  glad, 

Which  before  was  full  of  sorrowe  :  440 

For  my  deare  daughter  I  was  full  sad, 

But  now  I  say,  our  Lord  to  borrow, 

Thou  geuest  me  good  comfort.     Now  farewel  care  : 

Here  is  thy  hundred  pound ; 

1  pray  God  geue  thee  well  to  fare, 
And  kepe  thee  whole  and  sound. 

I  thanke  you,  dere  mother,  the  yong  man  said, 

Of  your  good  gifte  and  daughter  deare ; 

Me  thinkes  she  is  the  worthiest  mayde 

In  all  this  Lande  withouten  peare.  450 

I  hoape  to  Hue  with  her  alway 

So  gentelly  that  [me]  she  shall  fynde 

And  you  her  mother,  I  dare  well  say, 

In  euery  season  gentle  and  kynde. 

The  people,  standing  them  to  behold, 
Eegarded  the  wordes  of  the  Brydegrome  than, 
And  sayd  he  aunswered  with  wordes  cold, 
Which  become  full  well  the  good  yong  man. 


IN  MORRELLES  SKIN.  199 

And  then  they  prest  forth,  ech  after  other, 
With  golde  and  syluer  and  riche  giftes  eake  ;       460 
And  many  a  scorne  they  gaue  the  mother, 
But  euer  they  praysed  the  yong  man  meeke. 

To  whome  he  gaue  thankes  with  all  his  mighte, 

As  honesty  requyreth  him  to  doe ; 

lie  ordred  himselfe  alway  aright: 

Yet  they  thought  all  he  should  haue  woe. 

For  he  was  matched  so  ywys, 

That  he  could  not  wante  for  sorrow,  in  fay, 

But  alway  hampred  withouten  nnisse 

Of  mother  and  daughter  for  euer  and  aye.  470 

When  all  was  done,  they  gan  depart, 
And  tooke  their  leaue  full  friendly  thoe ; 
Thanking  ech  other  with  all  their  harte, 
And  en  their  way  home  they  gan  to  go. 
The  Father  and  mother  thanked  them  all, 
The  Bryde  and  Brydegrome  also  without  mis 
Did  thanke  the  company  in  generall, 
Departing  from  them  with  ioy  and  blisse. 

Then  they  went  home,  while  it  was  day, 

And  lefte  the  Bryde  and  Brydegrome  there ;         4so 

And  they  that  did  abide  there,  in  good  fay, 

They  made  at  euen  agayne  good  cheare  ; 

And  after  supper  they  did  make  good  sporte 

With  dauncing  and  springing1  as  was  the  vse ; 

1  A  spring  was  the  name  of  one  of  the  old  English  dances. 


200  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

Yong  people  by  other  there  did  resorte 
To  no  mans  hynder  nor  confuse. 


After  that  all  sportes  were  ended  and  done, 

And  that  the  bryde  should  goe  to  bed, 

Aboute  the  hall  they  daunced  soone, 

And  suddaynly  away  the  bryde  was  led,  490 

To  take  her  rest  with  her  dere  spouse, 

As  reason  would  it  should  so  be. 

Euen  as  the  cat  was  wonte  with  the  mouse 

To  play,  forsoth  euen  so  did  he. 

The  next  morning,  if  that  ye  will  heare, 

The  mother  did  come  to  their  bedsyde, 

Demaunding  them  what  was  their  cheare,         :  . 

And  the  Bryde  began  her  head  to  hyde. 

Saying  to  her,  as  one  ashamed : 

I  wys,  deare  mother,  I  would  ye  were  gone  ;         soo 

Or  ye  came  heare,  I  was  not  blamed 

For  being  in  his  armes  heare  all  alone. 


Myne  own  deare  daughter,  be  not  displeased, 

Though  I  doe  let  you  of  your  desport : 

I  would  be  loath  ye  were  diseased, 

But  you  shall  haue  a  Cawdell  for  your  comforte. 

A  while  I  will  goe  and  let  you  alone, 

Till  ye  be  ready  for  to  ryse ; 

And  sodaynely  the  mother  was  from  them  gone 

To  make  the  Cawdell  after  the  best  wise. 


IN  MOERELLES  SKIN.  201 

When  that  the  mother  departed  was, 
The  dallyed  togither,  and  had  good  game ; 
He  hit  her  awry  ;  she  cryed,  alas, 
What  doe  ye,  man,  hold  vp  for  shame. 
I  will,  sweete  wife,  then  gan  he  say, 
Fulfill  your  mynde  both  loud  and  still ; 
But  ye  be  able,  I  sweare  in  fay, 
In  all  sportes  to  abide  my  will. 

And  they  wrestled  so  long  beforne, 

That  this  they  had  for  their  greate  meade ;  520 

Both  shyrt  and  smock  was  all  to- tome, 

That  their  vprysyng  had  no  speede. 

But  yet  the  mother  came  agayne, 

And  sayd  to  her  daughter,  how  doest  thou  nowe  ? 

Mary,  mother,  betweene  vs  twayne 

Our  shyrtes  be  torne,  I  make  God  auowe. 

By  Gods  dere  mother  she  sware  than : 

This  order  with  vs  may  not  continue  ; 

I  will  no  more  lye  by  this  man, 

For  he  doth  me  brast  both  vayne  and  sinew.         530 

Nay,  nay,  deare  mother,  this  world  goeth  on  wheeles, 

By  sweete  saynt  George,  ye  may  me  trowe ; 

He  lyeth  kicking  with  his  heeles, 

That  he  is  like  to  beare  me  a  blow. 

My  owne  deare  daughter,  if  thy  smock  be  asonder, 
Another  shalt  thou  haue  then  by  this  light. 
I  pray  thee  hartely  doe  thou  not  wonder : 
For  so  was  I  dealt  with  the  fyrst  night 


202  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

That  I  by  thy  father  lay,  by  the  roode ; 

And  I  doe  [tell]  thee  with  wordes  playne,  540 

Me  thought  neuer  night  to  me  so  good 

As  that  same  was,  when  I  tooke  such  payne. 


Why,  mother,  were  ye  then  glad 

To  be  thus  delt  with,  as  I  am  now  ? 

Me  thinke  my  husband  worse  then  mad : 

For  he  doth  exceede,  I  make  God  auow. 

I  could  not  lye  still,  nor  no  rest  take 

Of  all  this  night,  beleue  ye  me : 

Sometime  on  my  syde  and  sometime  on  my  backe 

He  rolde  and  layd  me,  so  mote  I  thee.  5 


And  from  the  beds  head  vnto  the  beds  feete 
A  cloth  we  had  not  vs  for  to  decke, 
Neyther  our  couerlet,  nor  yet  our  sheete, 
That  I  pray  God  the  deuell  him  checke. 
For  I  am  ashamed,  my  mother  deare, 
Of  this  nightes  rest,  by  God  in  throne ; 
Before  our  friendes  I  dare  not  appeare, 
"Would  to  Gods  passion  I  had  layne  alone. 

Nay,  nay,  deare  daughter,  be  not  ashamed, 

For  here  is  nothing  done  amis ;  seo 

They  be  more  worthy  to  be  blamed, 

That  hereof  thinketh  shame  y  wys. 

For  this  is  honesty  for  thee  and  vs  all, 

And  a  new  smock  I  will  thee  fet ; 


IN  MORRELLES  SKIN.          203 

And  eke  for  thee,  my  sonne,  I  shall 
For  thy  true  laboure  a  new  shyrte  get. 


And  soone  of  these  they  were  both  sped, 

The  daughter  and  eake  the  sonne  also ; 

Full  quickly  they  rose  out  of  their  bed, 

And  with  their  mother  they  gan  go  570 

Abroade  among  their  friendes  all, 

Which  bid  them  good  lucke  and  eake  good  grace. 

The  cawdell  was  ready  there  in  the  Hall, 

With  myrth  and  glee  for  their  solace. 

Thus  ended  the  feast  with  sporte  and  play ; 

And  all  their  friendes,  each  with  other, 

Did  take  their  leaue  and  went  their  way 

From  bryde  and  Brydegrome,  with  father  and  mother, 

Which  right  hartely  did  thanke  them  tho, 

So  dyd  the  Bryde  and  Brydegrome  eke :  sso 

Yet,  when  the  friendes  were  all  ago, 

This  yong  folke  abode  with  the  mother  all  the  weeke. 

The  father  was  glad  to  see  them  agree, 

So  was  the  mother,  by  heauen  queene : 

And  sayd  eche  to  other :  so  mote  I  thee, 

I  thought  not  so  well  it  should  haue  beene 

Betweene  them  twayne,  as  it  is  now, 

And  therefore  alone  here  shall  they  bide. 

We  will  leaue  them  all,  I  make  God  auowe, 

And  go  to  dwell  in  our  house  harde  beside.  590 


204  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

At  shorte  conclusyon,1  they  went  their  way, 
Leuing  their  children  all  that  was  there ; 
And  come  not  agayne  of  many  a  day, 
For  their  deare  daughter  to  inquere. 
Thus  they  bode  together  than ; 
He  set  vp  his  shop  with  haberdash  ware, 
As  one  that  would  be  a  thriuing  man, 
To  get  great  goods  for  his  welfare. 

And  after  that,  he  tooke  greate  payne 

To  order  his  plowes  and  cattell  also ;  eoo 

He  kepte  both  boye  and  also  swayne, 

That  to  the  carte  and  plow  did  goe. 

And  some  kepte  neate,  and  some  kept  sheepe, 

Some  did  one  thing,  some  did  another, 

But  when  they  came  home  to  haue  their  meate, 

The  wife  played  the  deuell  then,  like  her  mother. 

With  countenaunce  grim  and  wordes  smart 
She  gaue  them  meate,  and  bad  them  brast.2 


1  i.  e.  in  short.  Chaucer  uses  the  expression,  at  shorte  wordes, 
in    the   same   sense,  in    the    poem  called  "The  Assemble  of 
Foules  :"— 

"  At  shorte  wordes,  tel  that  dethe  me  cease, 
I  will  be  hers,  whether  I  wake  or  winke." 

2  "The  goodman  also  feared  that,  if  he  should  take  a  servant, 
that  he  would  have  but  little  lust  to  tarie  there :  for  the  Devill 
himselfe  could  not  endure  the  chiding  and  bawling  of   that 
woman ;  by  which  meanes  she  kept  her  husband  without  a  ser 
vant  a  long  time." — Historie  of  Frier  Rush,  1620. 


IN  MORRELLES  SKIN.  205 

The  pore  folke  that  come  from  plow  and  carte 

Of  her  lewde  wordes  they  were  agast.  eio 

Saying  eche  to  other :  what  dame  is  this  ? 

The  deuill  I  trow  hath  brought  vs  here ; 

Our  mayster  shall  know  it,  by  heauens  blisse, 

That  we  will  not  serue  him  another  yeare. 

The  good  man  was  fourth  in  the  towne  abroade 

About  other  thinges,  I  you  say, 

When  he  came  homewarde  he  met  with  a  goade, 

One  of  his  carters,  was  going  away ; 

To  whome  he  sayde  :  Lob,1  whether  goest  thou  ? 

The  carter  spyde  his  master  than,  620 

And  sayd  to  him :  I  make  God  auow, 

No  longer  with  thy  wife  abide  I  can. 

Mayster,  he  sayd,  by  Gods  blist, 

Our  dame  is  the  deuell,  thou  mayst  me  beleeue : 


1  A  generic  term  for  a  country  hind.  In  Decker  and  Web 
ster's  Westward  Hoe,  1607,  act  ii.  sc.  2,  Mistress  Birdlime 
says : — 

" So  every  lip  has  his  lettuce  to  himself;  the  lob  his  lass, 

the  collier  his  dowdy,"  &c. 

The  word  seems  to  be  used  by  Decker  in  the  Guls  Horn  Book, 
1609,  as  equivalent  to  loobie.  Lobcock  is  occasionally  employed 
as  a  synonym  for  Lob.  The  latter  occurs  also  in  the  third  part 
of  the  Image  of  Ypocrysy : — 

"  He  maketh  no  nobbes, 
But  with  his  diologges 
To  prove  cure  prelates  goddes, 
And  lay  men  very  lobbes, 
Betinge  they[m]  with  bobbes." 


206  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

If  thou  haue  sought  her,  them  haste  not  miste 

Of  one  that  full  often  thee  shall  greeue. 

By  God,  a  man  thou  canst  not  haue 

To  go  to  carte,  ne  yet  to  plow : 

Neyther  boy,  nor  yet  knaue, 

By  Gods  deare  mother,  I  make  God  auow,  630 

That  will  bide  with  thee,  day  or  night. 
Our  Dame  is  not  for  vs  :  for  she  doth  curse, 
When  we  shall  eate  or  drinke  with  rio-ht : 

O 

She  bannes  and  frownes,  that  we  be  all  the  worse : 

We  be  not  vsed  where  euer  we  wende, 

To  be  sorely  looked  on  for  eating  of  our  meate : 

The  deuell  I  trow  dyd  her1  to  the  send, 

God  helpe  vs  a  better  maystres  to  get. 

Come  on  thy  way,  Lob,  and  turne  agayue, 

Go  home  with  me,  and  all  shall  be  well :  640 

An  Oxe  for  my  meyny  shall  be  slayne, 

And  the  hyde  at  the  market  I  will  sell. 

Upon  this,  together  home  they  went ; 

The  good  man  was  angry  in  his  minde : 

But  yet  to  his  wife  with  good  intent 

He  sayde :  sweete  heart,  you  be  vnkinde. 

Entreate  our  meyny  well  alway, 

And  geue  them  meate  and  drinke  ynough : 

For  they  get  our  liuing  euery  day, 

And  theirs  also,  at  carte  and  plough.  GSO 

1  Old  ed.  has  us. 


IN  MOREELLES  SKIN.  207 

Therefore  I  would  that  they  should  haue 
Meate  and  drinke  to  their  behoue : 
For,  my  sweete  wife,  so  god  me  saue, 
Ye  will  doe  so,  if  ye  me  loue. 

Gyue  them  what  thou  wilt,  I  doe  not  care, 

By  day  nor  night,  man,  beleeue  thou  me ; 

What  euer  they  haue,  or  how  they  fare, 

I  pray  God  euell  mote  they  thee, 

And  specially  that  horeson  that  doth  complayne, 

I  will  quite  him  once,  if  euer  I  live :  eeo 

I  will  dash  the  knaue  vpon  the  brayne, 

That  euer  after  it  shall  him  greeue. 

What,  my  deare  wife,  for  shame,  be  still, 

This  is  a  payne  such  wordes  to  heare : 

We  can  not  alwayes  haue  our  will, 

Though  that  we  were  a  Kinges  pere. 

For  to  shame,  a  Knaue  !   what  can  they  get  ? 

Thou  art  as  lewde,  for  God,  as  they, 

And  therefore  shalt  thou  serue  them  of  meate, 

And  drinke  also  from  hence  alway.  670 

What !  wife,  ye  be  to  blame, 

To  speake  to  me  thus  in  this  wise : 

If  we  should  striue,  folke  woud  speake  shame, 

Therefore  be  still  in  mine  aduise. 

I  am  loth  with  you  to  striue 

For  ought  that  you  shall  doe  or  say ; 

I  sweare  to  Christ,  wife,  by  my  Hue, 

I  had  rather  take  Morell,  and  ryde  my  way, 


208  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

To  seeke  mine  aduenture  till  your  moode  be  past ; 
I  say  to  you  these  manners  be  not  good,  eso 

Therefore  I  pray  you,  that  this  be  the  last 
Of  your  furious  anger,  that  semeth  so  wood. 
What  can  it  auayle  you  me  for  to  greeue, 
That  loueth  you  so  well  as  I  doe,  mine  harte  ? 
By  my  trouth,  wife,  you  may  me  beleeue, 
Suche  toyes  as  these  be  would  make  vs  both  smarte. 

Smarte  !  in  the  twenty  fayning  Deuelles  name, 

That  liste  me  once  >vell  for  to  see ! 

I  pray  God  geue  the  euell  shame : 

What  shouldest  thou  be,  werte  not  for  me  ?  690 

A  rag  on  thine thou  shouldest  not  haue, 

Excepte  my  friendes  had  geuen  it  thee ; 
Therefore  I  tell  thee  well,  thou  drunken  knaue, 
That  arte  not  he  that  shall  rule  me. 

O,  good  wife,  cease  and  let  this  ouerpasse  ; 

For  all  your  great  anger  and  hye  wordes  eake, 

I  am  mine  owne  selfe  euen  as  I  was, 

And  to  you  will  be  louing  and  also  meeke. 

But  if  ye  should  doe  thus,  as  ye  doe  begin, 

It  may  not  continue  no  time,  ywys  :  700 

I  would  not  let,  for  kyth  nor  kin, 

To  make  you  mend  all  thinges  that  is  amys. 

Make  me,  mary  !  out  vpon  the,  dreuill ! l 
Sayest  thou  that,  wilte  thou  beginne  ? 

1  Shakespeare  puts  this  word,  or  rather  the  other  form  of  it, 


IN  MOERELLES  SKIN.  209 

I  pray  God  and  our  Lady,  that  a  foule  euill 

Lyghten  vpon  thee  and  all  thy  kinne. 

By  Gods  deare  blest,  vex  me  no  more : 

For  if  thou  doe,  thou  shalte  repente ; 

I  haue  yet  somewhat  for  thee  in  store, 

And  with  that  a  staffe  in  her  hand  she  hent.          710 

At  him  full  soone  then  she  let  flee, 

And  whorled  about  her,  as  it  had  bene  a  man. 

Her  husband  then  was  fayne,  perdy, 

To  voyde  her  stroake,  and  goe  his  way  than. 

By  Gods  deare  mother,  then  gan  she  sweare, 

From  henceforth  I  will  make  thee  bow : 

For  I  will  trim  thee  in  thy  geare, 

Or  else  I  would  I  were  cald  a  Sow. 

Fye  on  all  wretches  that  be  like  thee, 

In  word  or  worke  both  lowde  and  still ! 1  720 

I  sweare  by  Him,  that  made  man  free, 

Of  me  thou  shalte  not  haue  thy  will, 

drivel,  for  a  fool  or  half-witted  person.  Thus  the  clown,  in 
Twelfth  Night,  iv.  3,  sings : — 

"  Like  a  mad  lad, 
Pare  thy  nails,  dad, 
Adieu,  goodman  drivel !" 

The  drivel  is,  of  course,  Malvolio,  who  has  been  locked  up  on  a 
false  charge  of  lunacy.  More  generally,  however,  this  word  sig 
nifies,  in  early  writers,  a  low  fellow  or  a  vulgar  wretch,  and  such 
probably  is  its  meaning  here. 

1  Always,  or  ever.     Here  it  means  the  latter : — 
"  Nor  neuer  tnyght  Y  here  the,  lowde  nor  styll, 
Therfore  wyst  Y  not  of  thi  wyll." 

Visions  of  Tundale,  ed.  Turnbull,  p.  8. 
VOL.  IV.  P 


2lO  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

Now  nor  neuer,  I  tell  thee  plajne : 
For  I  will  haue  Golde  and  riches  ynow, 
When  thou  shalte  goe  iagged  as  a  simple  swain, 
With  whip  in  hande,  at  carte  and  plough. 

Of  that,  m  j  deare  wife,  I  take  no  scorne, 
For  many  a  good  man  with  minde  and  harte 
Hath  gone  to  plough  and  carte  beforne 
My  time,  y  wys,  with  payne  and  smarte,  730 

Which  now  be  rich,  and  haue  good  at  will, 
Being  at  home,  and  make  good  cheare ; 
And  there  they  intend  to  leade  their  life  still, 
Till  our  Lord  doe  sende  for  them  heare. 

But  now  I  must  ryde  a  little  way, 

Deare  wife,  I  will  come  right  soone  agayne. 

Appoynt  our  dinner,  I  you  pray : 

For  I  doe  take  on  me  great  payne. 

I  doe  my  best,  I  sweare  by  my  life, 

To  order  you  like  a  woman  y-wys  ;  740 

And  yet  it  cannot  be  withouten  strife, 

Through  your  lewde  tongue,  by  heauens  blisse. 

Ryde  to  the  Deuell  and  to  his  dame : 

I  would  I  should  thee  neuer  see  ; 

I  pray  God  sende  thee  mickle  shame 

In  any  place,  where  euer  thou  be. 

Thou  wouldest  fayne  the  mayster  play, 

But  thou  shalte  not,  by  God,  I  make  thee  sure. 

I  sweare  I  will  thy  Peticote  pay, 

That  long  with  me  thou  shalte  not  endure.  750 


IN  MOREELLES   SKIN.  211 

l&ito  tje  sooti  man  rofce  jts  toag  till  fje 
tf)cmgf)te  jer  anger  toas  past  ant  tjen  ije  re^ 
tournett  Jome 


THE  good  man  was  sorry,  and  wente  his  way 
About  his  busynes,  as  he  was  vsed, 
And  to  himselfe  thus  gan  he  say  : 
Lord  God,  how  was  I  thus  abused  ! 
When  I  tooke  this  wife,  I  was  worse  then  mad, 
And  yet  can  I  blame  my  selfe  and  none  other  ; 
Which  maketh  me  sigh  and  often  be  sad, 
Repenting  full  sore,  by  Gods  deare  Mother. 

Fye  vpon  goods  withouten  pleasure. 

Betweene  man  and  wife  that  cannot  agree,  760 

It  is  a  payne  far  passing  measure 

Such  stryfe  to  see,  where  as  loue  should  be. 

For  there  was  neuer  man  y  wys, 

So  hampred  with  one  wife  as  I  am  now  ; 

Wherefore  I  thinke  withouten  misse 

She  shall  repent  it,  I  make  God  auow. 

Except  she  turne  and  change  her  minde, 

And  eake  her  conditions  euerichone, 

She  shall  fynde  me  to  her  so  vnkinde, 

That  I  shall  her  coyle  both  backe  and  bone,          770 

And  make  her  blew  and  also  blacke, 

That  she  shall  grone  agayne  for  woe  ; 

I  will  make  her  bones  all  to  cracke, 

Without  that  she  her  condicions  forgoe. 


212  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

I  was  neuer  so  vexte  this  time  beforne, 

As  I  am  now  of  this  wife  alone ; 

A  vengeaunce  on  her  that  euer  she  was  boriie  : 

For  she  maketh  me  often  full  woe  begon  ; 

And  I  cannot  tell  where  me  to  tourne, 

Nor  me  to  wende,  by  God,  in  faye,  780 

Which  cause[th]  me  often  for  to  mourne : 

[N]or  yet  to  know  what  for  to  say. 

I  am  worse  then  mad  or  wood, 

And  yet  I  am  loth  with  her  to  begin  ; 

I  feare  me  I  shall  neuer  make  her  good, 

Except  I  do  wrap  her  in  black  Morels  skin, 

That  can  no  more  drawe  at  plough  ne  carte. 

It  shall  be  to  late  to  call  for  her  kinne, 

When  she  beginneth  once  for  to  smarte : 

For  little  ease  thereby  she  shall  winne.  790 

Morell  is  olde ;  he  can  labour  no  more, 

Nor  doe  no  good  but  alway  eate ; 

I  trowe  I  haue  kept  him  thus  long  in  store 

To  worke  a  charme  that  shall  be  feate. 

The  horeson  is  blynde  and  lame  also, 

Behynde  and  before  he  cannot  stere ; 

When  he  from  the  stable  to  the  streete1  should  go, 

He  falleth  downe  ryght  than  in  the  myre. 

Yet  I  am  loth  him  for  to  kyll, 

For  he  hath  done  me  good  seruice  or  nowe  ;          800 

1  Old  ed.  has  steeete. 


IN  MORRELLES  SKIN.  213 

But  if  my  wyfe  fulfyll  not  my  wyll, 
I  must  him  flea,  by  God,  I  trowe. 
But  at  thys  poynt  nowe  will  I  be, 
I  wyll  be  mayster,  as  it  is  reason, 
And  make  her  subiect  vnto  me, 
For  she  must  learne  a  newe  lesson. 

Her  father  did  warne  me  of  this  beforne, 

How  I  should  it  finde  in  euery  degree, 

But  I  did  take  it  for  halfe  a  scorne, 

And  would  not  beleeue  him  then  perdee.  sio 

But  now  I  perceaue  it  very  well, 

He  did  it  for  good  will,  y  wis ; 

Wherefore  I  thinke  that  Morels  fell 

Must  mend  all  thing  that  is  amis. 

Thus  he  that  will  not  beleeue  his  friend, 

As  her  deare  father  was  vnto  me, 

He  is  worthy  for  to  fynde 

Alway  greate  payne  and  misery. 

But  I  may  not  choose  him  to  beleeue, 

For  the  deede  doth  proue  himselfe  in  fay ;  820 

Euer  she  is  redy  me  for  to  greeue, 

And  thinkes  to  continue  so  alway. 

But  now  I  will  home  to  proue  her  minde, 

And  see  what  welcome  I  shall  haue ; 

She  may  be  to  me  so  vnkinde, 

That  she  shall  repent  it,  so  God  me  saue : 

For  if  I  should  of  her  complayne, 

Folke  would  me  mock  and  giue  me  scorne, 


214  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

And  say,  I  were  worthy  of  this  payne, 

Because  it  was  shewed  me  so  well  beforne.  sso 


tfje  0curtmtan  toas  toelcommefc  tojat 
rrtournrtr  Jome  agagne. 


I^HE  good  man  came  ryding  to  the  gate, 
And  knocked  as  he  had  bene  wode  ; 
His  seruaunt  right  soone  did  meete  him  thereat, 
And  bid  him  welcome  with  right  milde  moode. 
The  mayster  sayd  :  what  doth  my  dame  now  ? 
Is  she  as  frantick  yet  as  she  was  ? 
Than  will  I  tame  her,  I  make  God  auow, 
And  make  her  sing  full  loude  alas. 

Where  arte  thou,  wife  ?  shall  I  haue  any  meate  ? 
Or  am  I  not  so  welcome  vnto  thee,  sio 

That  at  my  commaundement  I  shall  ought  get, 
I  pray  thee  hartely  soone  tell  thou  me  ? 
If  thou  doe  not  serue  me,  and  that  anon, 
I  shall  thee  shew  mine  anger  y  wis  : 
I  sweare  by  God  and  by  saynt  John, 
Thy  bones  will  I  swaddle,  so  haue  I  blisse. 

Forth  she  came,  as  brym  [as]  a  bore,1 
And  like  a  dog  she  rated  him  than, 


1  i.  e.  as  fierce  as  a  boar.  Brym  or  brim  is  another  form  of 
breme.  Brim  is  not  quite  so  common,  but  Langtoft  has  it. 
The  origin  of  the  term  seems  to  be  brim,  an  edge,  hence  sharp 


or 


IN  MORRELLES  SKIN.  215 

Saying  thus :  I  set  no  store 

By  thee,  thou  wretch  ;  thou  arte  no  man.  850 

Get  thee  hence  out  of  my  sight : 

For  meate  nor  drinke  thou  gettest  none  heare ; 

I  sweare  to  thee  by  Mary  bright, 

Of  me  thou  gettest  here  no  good  cheare. 

Well,  wyfe,  he  sayd,  thou  doste  me  compell 

To  doe  that  thing  that  I  were  loath ; 

If  I  bereaue  Morell  of  his  old  fell, 

Thou  shalte  repente  it  by  the  fayth  now  goath : 

For  I  see  well  that  it  will  no  better  be, 

But  in  it  thou  must  after  the  new  guyse.  860 

It  had  bene  better,  so  mote  I  thee, 

That  thou  haddest  not  begon  this  enterpryse. 


tje  gooto  man  cmtsrti  Jftorell  to  fie 
slagn  anti  tye  fjito  saitetr  to  lag  i)ts  totfr 
tijewn  to  sleepe. 


N 


OW  will  I  begin  my  wife  to  tame, 
That  all  the  world  shall  it  know ; 


fierce.  In  the  following  passage  Minot  (Poems,  ed.  1825,  p.  22), 
intends  by  the  word,  the  tusks  of  a  boar : — 

"  Tourenay  £ow  has  tight 
To  timber,  trey,  and  tene ; 
A  bore  with  brems  t  right 
Es  broght  up  on  ^oure  grene." 


216  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

I  would  be  loth  her  for  to  shame, 

Though  she  do  not  care,  ye  may  me  trow ; 

Yet  will  I  her  honesty  regard 

And  it  preserue,  where  euer  ye  may, 

But  Morell,  that  is  in  yonder  yarde, 

His  hyde  therefore  he  must  leese,  in  fay.  870 

And  so  he  commaunded  anon 
To  slea  old  Morell,  his  greate  Horse, 
And  flea  him  then  the  skin  from  the  bone, 
To  wrap  it  about  his  wiues  white  coarse. 
Also  he  commaunded  of  a  byrchen  tree 
Koddes  to  be  made  a  good  great  heape, 
And  sware,  by  deare  God  in  Trinity, 
His  wife  in  his  seller  shold  skip  and  leape. 

The  hyde  must  be  salted,  then  he  sayd  eake, 

Bycause  I  would  not  haue  it  stinke  ;  880 

I  hope  herewith  she  will  be  meeke, 

For  this  I  trow  will  make  her  shrinke 

And  bow  at  my  pleasure,  when  I  her  bed, 

And  obay  my  commaundementes  both  lowde  and  still ;  * 


1  I  am  inclined  to  suspect  that  this  term  was  borrowed  from 
the  stage,  and  that  it  originally  applied  to  the  way  in  which 
the  music  was  played,  first  loud,  then  still,  or  subdued.  Thus,  in 
Hey  wood's  Love's  Maistresse,  or  the  Queenes  Masque,  1636,  act 
ii.  sc.  1,  we  have  the  following: — 

"Echo.  Silent.         2.  Silent.         3.  Silent. 

Psyche.  Or  else  I'll  punish  you ; 
And  let  me  hear  some  music,  loud  and  still. 

(loud  music,  and  still  music)." 
Hey  wood  here  made  use,  no  doubt,  of  an  expression  well-known 


IN  MORRELLES  SKIN.  217 

Or  else  I  will  make  her  body  bleede, 
And  with  sharp  roddes  beate  her  my  fill. 


Anon  with  that  to  her  he  gan  to  call ; 

She  bid  abide  in  the  diuelles  name : 

I  will  not  come  what  so  befall, 

Sit  still  with  sorrow  and  mickle  shame.  890 

Thou  shalte  not  rule  me  as  pleaseth  thee, 

I  will  well  thou  know,  by  Gods  deare  Mother, 

But  thou  shalt  be  ruled  alway  by  me, 

And  I  will  be  mayster,  and  none  other. 

Wilte  thou  be  mayster,  deare  wife  in  fay  ? 

Then  must  .we  wrestle  for  the  best  game  ; 

If  thou  it  win,  then  may  I  say, 

That  I  haue  done  my  selfe  greate  shame. 

But  fyrst  I  will  make  thee  sweate,  good  Jone, 

Eedde  blood  euen  to  the  heeles  adowne,  900 

And  lappe  thee  in  Morels  skin  alone, 

That  the' blood  shall  be  seene  euen  from  the  crowne. 

Sayest  thou  me  that,  thou  wretched  knaue ! 

It  were  better  thou  haddest  me  neuer  seene ; 

I  sweare  to  thee,  so  God  me  saue, 

With  my  nayles  I  will  scratch  out  both  thine  eyen, 


in  and  before  his  time.  Hence  "  loud  and  still  "  acquired  the 
meaning  of  "  at  intervals,"  or  "  at  regular  intervals,"  and  thence 
continually,  always.  At  all  events,  this  interpretation  may  be 
accepted,  until  a  better  one  is  proposed.  See  Shakespeare's 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  iv.  1. 


218  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 


. 


And  therefore  thinke  not  to  touch  me  once  : 

For  by  the  masse,  if  thou  begin  that, 

Thou  shalte  be  handled  for  the  nonce, 

That  all  thy  braynes  on  the  ground  shall  squat.    910 

Why  then  there  is  no  remedy,  I  see, 
But  needes  I  must  doe  euen  as  I  thought ; 
Seeing  it  will  none  other  wise  be, 
I  will  thee  not  spare,  by  God  that  me  bought : 
For  now  I  am  set  thee  for  to  charme, 
And  make  thee  meeke,  by  Gods  might, 
Or  else  with  roddes,  while  thou  arte  warme, 
I  shall  thee  scourge  with  reason  and  right. 

f  Now  good  Morels  fkin 
Receiue  my  curft  wife  in 


1F  i^oto  tje  curst  totfe  in  JEotels  gfctn  lag 
because  jsje  tooutti  not  fjer  jusfcanto  ofcag* 

NOW  will  I  my  sweete  wife  trim, 
According  as  she  deserueth  to  me.  020 

I  sweare,  by  God  and  by  saynt  Sim, 
With  Byrchen  roddes  well  beate  shall  she  be, 
And  after  that  in  Morels  sake  skin 
I  will  her  lay,  and  full  fast  binde, 
That  all  her  friendes,  and  eake  her  kyn, 
Shall  her  long  seeke,  or  they  her  fynde. 


IN  MOREELLES  SKIN.  219 

Then  he  her  met,  and  to  her  gan  say : 

How  sayest  thou,  wife,  wilt  thou  be  mayster  yet  ? 

She  sware  by  Gods  body  and  by  that  day, 

And  sodaynly  with  her  fyst  she  did  him  hit,  930 

And  defyed  him  Dreuill  at  euery  worde, 

Saying :  precious  horesone,  what  doest  thou  thinke  ? 

I  set  not  by  thee  a  stinking  t  .  .  . : 

Thou  shalt  get  of  me  neyther  meate  nor  drinke. 

Sayest  thou  me  that,  wyfe  ?  quoth  he  than, 

With  that  in  his  armes  he  gan  her  catche ; 

Streyght  to  the  seller  with  her  he  ran, 

And  fastened  the  dore  with  locke  and  latche, 

And  threwe  the  key  downe  him  besyde, 

Askyng  her  than,  if  she  would  obay  ?  940 

Than  she  sayde :   nay,  for  all  thy  pryde, 

But  she  was  mayster,  and  would  abyde  alway. 

Then,  quoth  he,  we  must  make  a  fraye, 

And  with  that  her  cloths  he  gan  to  teare. 

Out  vpon  thee,  horesone,  than  she  did  saye, 

Wylte  thou  robbe  me  of  all  my  geare  ? 

It  cost  thee  naught,  thou  arrant  theefe  ; 

And  quickly  she  gat  hym  by  the  heade, 

With  that  she  sayde :  God  giue  thee  a  mischiefs, 

And  them  that  fed  thee  fyrst  with  breade.  9so 

They  wrestled  togyther  thus  they  two 
So  long,  that  the  clothes  asunder  went, 
And  to  the  grounde  he  threwe  her  tho, 
That  cleane  from  the  backe  her  smock  he  rent. 


220  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

In  euerj  hand  a  rod  he  gate, 
And  layd  vpon  her  a  right  good  pace ; 
Asking  of  her  what  game  was  that ; 
And  she  cryed  out :  horeson,  alas,  alas. 

What  wilte  thou  doe  ?  wilte  thou  kill  me  ? 

I  haue  made  thee  a  man  of  nought ;  960 

Thou  shalte  repente  it,  by  Gods  pitty, 

That  euer  this  deede  thou  haste  y- wrought. 

I  care  not  for  that,  dame,  he  did  say, 

Thou  shalt  giue  ouer,  or  we  departe, 

The  maystership  all,  or  all  this  day 

I  will  not  cease  to  make  thee  smarte. 

Euer  he  layde  on,  and  euer  she  did  crye  : 

Alas,  alas,  that  euer  I  was  borne. 

Out  vpon  thee  !  murderer,  I  thee  defye, 

Thou  hast  my  white  skin  and  my  body  all  to-torne. 

Leaue  of  betyme,  I  counsayle  thee.  971 

Nay,  by  God,  dame,  I  saye  not  so  yet, 

I  sweare  to  thee,  by  Mary  so  free, 

We  begyn  but  nowe  :  this  is  the  first  fyt. 

Once  agayne  we  must  daunce  about, 

And  then  thou  shalt  reast  in  Morels  skyn. 

He  gaue  her  than  so  many  a  great  cloute, 

That  on  the  grounde  the  bloud  was  seene. 

Within  a  whyle  he  cryed :  newe  roddes,  newe ! 

With  that  she  cryed  full  lowde  alas.  980 

Daunce  yet  about,  dame,  thou  came  not  where  it  grewe  ; 

And  sodainely  with  that  in  a  sowne  she  was. 


IN  MORRELLES  SKIN.          221 

He  spyed  that,  and  vp  he  her  hente, 

And  wrang  her  harde  then  by  the  nose. 

With  her  to  Morels  skin  straight  he  wente, 

And  therein  full  fast  he  did  her  close. 

Within  a  while  she  did  reuiue 

Through  the  grose  salte,  that  did  her  srnarte ; 

She  thought  she  should  neuer  haue  gone  on1  Hue 

Out  of  Morels  skin,  so  sore  is  her  harte.  990 

When  she  did  spy  that  therein  she  lay, 
Out  of  her  wit  she  was  full  nye, 
And  to  her  husband  then  did  she  say : 
How  canst  thou  doe  this  vilany  ? 
Nay,  how  sayest  thou,  thou  cursed  wife  ? 
In  this  foule  skin  I  will  thee  keepe 
During  the  time  of  all  thy  life, 
Therein  for  euer  to  wayle  and  weepe. 

With  that  her  moode  began  to  sinke, 

And  sayd :  deare  husband,  for  grace  I  call ;         1000 

For  I  shall  neuer  sleepe  nor  winke, 

Till  I  get  your  loue,  whatso  befall ; 

And  I  will  neuer  to  you  offend 

In  no  maner  of  wise  of  all  my  lyue ; 

Nor  to  doe  nothing  that  may  pretend 

To  displease  you  with  my  wittes  fyue. 

1  i.  e.  alive.  "  Then  she  knew  wel  that  it  was  Sir  Pelleas 
sword.  '  Alas ! '  said  she  to  Sir  Gawaine,  '  ye  have  betraied 
me  and  Sir  Pelleas  also,  for  yee  told  me  that  yee  had  slaine 
him,  and  now  T  know  well  it  is  not  so,  he  is  on  Hue." — The 
History  of  K.  Arthur,  1485,  ed.  Wright,  i.  156-7. 


222  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

For  Father,  nor  Mother,  whatsoeuer  they  say, 

I  will  not  anger  you,  by  God  in  throne  ; 

But  glad  will  your  commaundementes  obay 

In  presence  of  people,  and  eake  alone.  1010 

Well,  on  that  condicion,  thou  shalt  haue 

Grace,  and  fayre  bed  to  rest  thy  body  in ; 

But  if  thou  rage  more,  so  God  me  saue, 

I  will  wrap  thee  agayne  in  Morels  skin. 

Then  he  tooke  her  out  in  his  armes  twayne, 
And  beheld  her  so  pitteously  with  blood  arayed : 
How  thinkest  thou,  wife,  shall  we  agayne 
Haue  such  businesse  more  ?  to  her  he  sayd. 
She  aunswered :  nay,  my  husband  deare, 
Whyle  I  you  know,  and  you  know  me,  1020 

Your  commaundementes  I  will,  both  far  and  neare, 
Fulfill  alway  in  euery  degree. 

Well  then,  I  promise  thee,  by  God,  euen  now, 

Betweene  thee  and  mee  shall  neuer  be  strife ; 

If  thou  to  my  commaundementes  quickly  bow, 

I  will  the  cherish  all  the  dayes  of  my  life. 

In  bed  she  was  layde,  and  healed  full  soone, 

As  fayre  and  cleare  as  she  was  beforne. 

What  he  her  bid  was  quickly  done, 

To  be  dilligently  y  wys  she  tooke  no  scorne.        1030 

Then  was  he  glad,  and  thought  in  his  minde : 
Now  haue  I  done  myselfe  great  good, 
And  her  also ;  we  shall  it  finde, 
Though  I  haue  shed  parte  of  her  blood ; 


IN  MOEEELLES  SKIN.  223 

For  as  me  thinke  she  will  be  meeke, 
Therefore  I  will  her  Father  and  Mother 
Byd  to  guest  now  the  next  weeke, 
And  of  our  neighboures  many  other. 


If  ?$otoe  tje  gocto  man  fcft  fcgfc  Jet  dFatjer 
JHotfjer  to  guest  anlt  mang  of  f)ts 
tfjat  tf)eg  mtgfjt  see  f)ts  tomes  pacgence. 


GREAT  payne  he  made  his  wife  to  take, 
Agaynst  the  day  that  they  should  come  ;    1040 
Of  them  was  none  that  there  did  lack, 
I  dare  wel  say  vnto  my  doome. 
Ye,  Father  and  mother,  and  neighbours  all, 
Dyd  thether  come  to  make  good  cheare  ; 
Soone  they  were  set  in  generall  ; 
The  wyfe  was  dilligent,  as  did  appeare. 

Father  and  mother  was  welcome  then, 

And  so  were  they  all,  in  good  fay. 

The  husband  sate  there  like  a  man, 

The  wife  did  serue  them  all  that  day.  1050 

The  good  man  commaunded  what  he  would  haue  ; 

The  wyfe  was  quick  at  hand. 

What,  now  !  thought  the  mother,  this  arrant  knaue 

Is  mayster,  as  I  vnderstand. 

What  may  this  meane,  then  she  gan  thinke, 
That  my  daughter  so  dilligent  is  ? 


224  THE   WIFE  LAPPED 

Now  can  I  nother  eate  nor  drinke, 

Till  I  it  know,  by  heauen  blisse. 

When  her  daughter  came  agayne 

To  serue  at  the  horde,  as  her  husband  bad,          loeo 

The  Mother  stared  with  her  eyen  twayne, 

Euen  as  one  that  had  ben  mad. 

All  the  folke,  that  at  the  boord  sate, 

Did  her  behold  then  euerichone ; 

The  mother  from  the  boord  her  gate, 

Following  her  daughter,  and  that  anone ; 

And  in  the  Kitching  she  her  fand, 

Saying  vnto  her  in  this  wise : 

Daughter,  thou  shalte  well  vnderstand, 

I  did  not  teach  thee  after  this  guyse.  1070 

A,  good  mother,  ye  say  full  well, 
All  thinges  with  me  is  not,  as  ye  weene, 
If  ye  had  bene  in  Morels  fell, 
As  well  as  I,  it  should  be  scene. 
In  Morels  fell !  what  deuill  is  that  ? 
Mary,  mother,  I  will  it  you  show ; 
But  beware  that  you  come  not  thereat, 
Lest  you  your  selfe  then  doe  beshrew. 

Come  downe  now  in  this  seller  so  deepe, 
And  Morels  skin  there  shall  you  see,  ioso 

With  many  a  rod  that  hath  made  me  to  weepe, 
When  the  blood  ranne  downe  fast  by  my  knee. 
The  Mother  this  beheld,  and  cryed  out  alas ! 
And  ran  out  of  the  Seller  as  she  had  bene  wood  ; 


IN  MOERELLES  SKIN.          225 

She  came  to  the  table,  where  the  company  was, 
And  sayd  :  out,  horeson,  I  will  see  thy  harte  blood  ! 


'Peace,  good  Mother,  or  so  haue  I  blisse, 
Ye  must  daunce  else  as  did  my  wyfe, 
And  in  Morels  skin  lye,  that  well  salted  is,  1089 

Which  you  should  repent  all  the  dayes  of  your  lyfe. 
All  they  that  were  there  held  with  the  yong  man, 
And  sayd  he  dyd  well  in  euery  maner  degree. 
Whan  dynner  was  done,  they  departed  all  than  ; 
The  mother  no  lenger  durst  there  be. 


The  Father  abode  last,  and  was  full  glad, 
And  gaue  his  children  his  blessyng  ywys, 
Saying  the  yong  man  full  well  done  had, 
And  merely  departed  wythouten  mys. 
This  yong  man  was  glad,  ye  may  be  sure, 
That  he  had  brought  hys  wyfe  to  this. 
God  gyue  vs  all  grace  in  rest  to  indure, 
And  hereafter  to  come  vnto  his  blisse. 


Thus  was  Morell  flayne  out  of  his  skin 

To  charme  a  shrew,  so  haue  I  blisse. 

Forgeue  the  yongman,  if  he  did  sin ; 

But  I  thinke  he  did  nothing  amisse. 

He  did  all  thing  euen  for  the  best, 

As  was  well  prooued  then ; 

God  saue  our  wiues  from  Morels  nest ; 

I  pray  you  say  all,  amen.  mo 

VOL.  IV.  Q 


226    THE  WIFE  IN  MORRELLES  SKIN. 

Thus  endeth  the  iest  of  Morels  skin, 
Where  the  curst  wife  was  lapped l  in ; 
Because  she  was  of  a  shrewde  leere, 
Thus  was  she  serued  in  this  maner. 


Mayfter  Charme8  her. 


Jmprmteto  at  Uontion  in  dFleete  stteate,  fceneatt) 

tje  (ftontwtte,  at  tje  stgne  of  £.  lofw 

(Buangeltst,  fcg  ^ugi  Jacfeson. 


®e  tjat  tan  cjarme  a  sfjwtote  togfr 

letter  t!)en  tijus, 

Uet  jtm  come  to  me,  anfc  fetej  ten  pounti, 
a  gotten  purse. 


1  i.  e.  wrapped. 

"  Sym,  Sym,  syckerlye 
Heafe  I  see  Marye 
And  Jesus  Christe  faste  by, 
Lapped  in  have." 

Chester  P/ctys,  ed.  Wright,  i.  137. 

5  To  charm  is  here,  and  in  the  following  line,  put  satirically 
for  "  to  subdue  into  silence."  It  is  used  in  the  same  way  in  a 
passage  in  the  Marriage  of  Wit  and  Science  (Sh.  Soc.  ed.  p.  37) : 

"  Fall  you  to  kyssyng,  syr,  now  a  dayes  ? 
Your  mother  shall  charme  you,  go  your  waves." 

Compare  Dyce's  Skelton,  ii.  114. 


a  Crearpse 

%fKtmng  ana  Declaring  tfte 
ana  abuse  of  CQomcn 
*2oto  a 

ATREATTSE  shewing  and  declaring  the  Pirde  anc 
efWoaaS<nraDaj«s.    [circa  155O-]   4to,  four 


1C.::::::-.: 
t  Tm*m 


vt-i,.  i:  -.  Sv^e  ::±e 


This  and   Cnmm* 


Q-pp*  far   Up^H   Gn-fc- 


228          THE  PRYDE  OF  WOMEN. 

he  will  find  nothing  coarser  than  occurs  at  every  other  page  of 
Jonson's  Plays  or  Durfey's  Songs,  or  than  in  the  greater  part  of 
the  contents  of  the  young  ladies'  music  books  in  fashion  a  cen 
tury  or  so  ago. 

Of  Bansley  no  account  seems  to  be  preserved  beyond  what  is 
to  be  collected  from  a  hint  or  two  found  in  his  only  known 
effort  of  a  literary  kind.  A  curious  illustration  of  the  state  of 
morality  twenty  years  after  Bansley's  publication  occurs  in  Mr. 
Collier's  new  edition  of  the  Bridgewater  Catalogue,  1865,  ii. 
74,5. 

The  only  copy  of  the  present  piece  known  was  formerly  in 
the  library  of  Lincoln  Cathedral.  It  was  procured  of  the  Dean 
and  Chapter  in  exchange  (with  many  other  things)  by  Dibdin, 
who  gave  them  modem  books  instead.  Dibdin  sold  it  to  Mr. 
Heber,  and  it  is  now  probably  at  Britwell. 


Create 

s&ctomg  anO  Declaring: 

t\)t  £rpt)c  anti  3buse  of  CCJomen 

JBoto  a  Daprs. 


0  pepe  ! 1  what  have  I  spyed  ? 

A  bug,  I  trow,  devysing  of  proud  knacks. 
For  wanton  lasses  and  galant  women, 
And  other  lewde  noughty  packes. 


1  Originally  and  still  used  to  signify  a  game  played  by  the 
nurse  with  the  child  under  her  care.  The  nature  of  it  is  too 
well  known  to  require  explanation.  (See  HalliwelFs  Popular 
Rhymes  and  Nursery  Tales,  1849,  p.  109.)  But  here  bo-peep  is 
used  rather  in  a  ludicrous  sense,  for  lo !  or  look  and  behold  !  In 
the  Image  of  Ypocrisy,  a  poem  attributed  by  some  to  Skelton,  it 
seems  to  bear  the  meaning  of  fast  and  loose,  which  would  be 
merely  a  sort  of  outgrowth  from  its  primitive  signification.  Ad 
dressing  the  clergy  of  his  time,  the  writer  of  the  piece  already 
mentioned  says : — 

"  Ye  drawe  and  cast  lottes, 
In  hattes  and  in  pottes, 
For  tottes  and  for  quottes, 
And  blere  vs  with  your  blottes, 
And  with  your  mery  poppes : 
Thus  youe  make  vs  sottes, 
And  play  with  vs  boopepe, 
With  other  gambaldes  like, 
And  pill  oure  Lordes  sheepe, 
Your  honour  for  to  kepe." 

In  Armin's  Nest  of  Ninnies,  1608  (Shak.  Soc.  ed.  p.  54),  the 
term  to  play  at  bo-peep  appears  to  stand  for  to  be  on  the  look  out 


232  THE  PRYDE  AND 

O,  cursed  pride  !  the  spring  and  rote  of  everi  sin, 

Full  yll  myghte  thou  fare. 
For  thou  hast  brought  thys  wealthy  realme 

Into  moche  payne  and  care. 

And  what  maketh  us  to  fall  from  God, 

And  thus  wyckedly  to  lyve  as  we  doo,  10 

But  pryde,  pryde,  thys  curssed  vyce 

That  hath  banished  welth,  and  brought  us  woo  ? 

And  yet  wyl  the  wycked  cloke  thys  pryde, 

And  prayse  it,  and  lyke  it  well : 
But  theyr  prayse  and  cloke  wyll  not  serve, 

But  hoyst  them  to  the  devyll  of  hell. 

They  saye  that  all  the  pryde  is  in  the  harte, 

And  none  in  the  garmentes  gaye ; 
But  surely  yf  there  were  no  proude  hartes, 

There  woulde  be  no  proude  araye.  20 

For  Scripture  saith,  that  your  proud  garments  and 

behaviour 
Do  shewe  playnely  what  you  are  wythin, 


for  one.  "  The  two  drunkards  waked  both  together.  John  cals 
nurse,  nurse !  which  the  butler  (halfe-awake)  hearing,  thought 
the  diuell  had  bin  playing  bo  peep  with  him."  Lyndsay  in  his 
Satyre  of  the  Three  Estaitis,  has  the  expression  to  play  bo-keik, 
which  is  the  Scotish  form  of  the  phrase : — 

"  That  I  am  nocht,  my  lord,  full  wa  is  me, 
Bot,  lyke  ane  beggar,  am  halden  at  the  bar ; 
They  play  bo-keik,  evin  as  I  war  ane  skar." 
Works,  ed.  1806,  i.  455. 


ABUSE  OF  WOMEN.  233 

And  therefore  your  fonde  blynd  skuses1  wyl  not  serve ; 
They  are  not  worth  a  pyn. 

For,  lyke  as  thee2  jolye  ale  house 

Is  alwayes  knowen  by  the  good  ale  stake3 

So  are  proude  Jelots  sone  perceaved,  to, 
By  theyr  proude  foly,  and  wanton  gate. 

Take  no  example  by  shyre  townes, 

Nor  of  the  Cytie  of  London ;  so 

For  therein  dwell  proude  wycked  ones, 

The  poyson  of  all  this  region. 

For  a  stewde  strumpet  can  not  so  soone 

Gette  up  a  lyght  lewde  fashyon, 
But  everye  wanton  Jelot  wyll  lyke  it  well, 

And  catch  it  up  anon. 

And  yet  Goddes  worde  is  agaynste  you  playne, 
And  calleth  it  abhomination. 


1  Excuses.  2  i-  e.  the. 

3  i.e.  the  stake  or  pole  set  up  before  an  ale-house  as  a 
sign : — 

"  He  may  be  sold  upon  warantise, 
As  for  a  trowant  that  nothyng  wil  don, 
Selle  his  hors  provender  is  his  chief  marchaundise, 
And  for  a  chevissaunce  can  pluk  of  his  shon, 
And  at  the  dyse  pley  the  mony  sone, 
And  with  his  wynnynges  he  makith  his  offryng 
At  the  ale  stakis,  sittyng  ageyn  the  mone, 
Out  of  a  cuppe  to  pluk  out  the  lyneng." 

Early  Satirical  Ballad ;  printed  in  Reliquia 
Antiques. 


234  THE  PRYDE  AND 

Now,  fye  for  shame,  that  christen  people 

Shoulde  lyke  anye  soche  wycked  fashyon  !  40 

For  they  that  walcke  in  proude  raymente, 
Walcke  not  truelye  in  spyryte  and  fayth, 

But  in  a  flesshely  develyshe  waye, 
For  so  the  Scripture  sayeth. 

Sponge  up  youre  vysage,  olde  bounsynge  trotte, 

And  tricke  it  with  the  beste, 
Tyll  you  tricke  and  trotte  youre  selfe 

To  the  devyls  trounsynge  neste  : 

Oure  trotte,  our  trotte,  our  lustye  trotte, 

Whyche  shoulde  be  mooste  sadde1  and  playne,       so 
Is  nowe  become  a  trickynge  one, 

And  a  wanton  trincklet  agayne. 

Thys2  from  the  devyl  and  the  stewes 

Commeth  your  tricksynesse  that  you  lyke  so  well 
To  tricke  up  your  carkas  to  the  sayle, 

And  to  trappe  youre  soule  to  hell. 

"Wyth  whippet3  a  whyle,  lyttle  pretyone 
Prancke  it,  and  hagge  it  well ; 


1  i.  e.  sober,  serious.  In  early  English,  the  word  is  found  used 
in  this  sense  quite  as  often  as  in  its  modern  signification. 

a  i.  e.  thus. 

3  i.  e.  frisk  about.  We  have  here,  perhaps,  something  like 
the  exact  title  or  burden  of  the  ballad  of  "  My  Little  Pretty 


ABUSE  OF  WOMEN.  235 

For  yf  you  jette  not  nycelye, 

You  shall  not  beare  the  bell.1  eo 


One,"  lost  to  us  in  its  original  shape,  and  only  known  through 
a  modern  reprint.  See  Chappell,  p.  79,  and  Colliers'  Roxb. 
Ballads,  p.  116. 

Whippit  or  whippet  is  used  by  Taylor,  the  Water  Poet,  in  his 
Dogge  of  Warre  (Works,  1 630,  ii.  232),  in  the  sense  of  some 
little  breed  of  dog.  Mr.  Halliwell  (Archaic  Dictionary,  art. 
whippit)  says : — "  A  kind  of  dog,  in  breed  between  a  greyhound 
and  a  spaniel."  In  Udall's  Ralph  Roister- Doister  some  of  the 
characters  sing  in  concert  the  following  song : — 

"  Pipe,  mery  Annot,  &c. 
Trilla,  trilla,  trillarie. 
Now  Tibbet,  now  Annot,  now  Margerie, 
Now  whippet  apace  for  the  maystrie, 
But  it  will  not  be,  our  mouth  is  so  drie." 

1  "  To  bear  the  bell"  was  a  phrase  which  originally  signified 
to  be  the  victor  at  some  contest,  particularly  at  a  horse-race, 
where  a  bell  was  commonly,  in  former  times,  the  reward  of  the 
successful  runner.  It  thence  acquired  the  general  meaning  of 
to  win  or  conquer.  The  editors  of  Brand  {Popular  Antiquities, 
i.  71,  ed.  1849)  have  also  pointed  out,  that  at  foot-ball,  the 
great  aim  of  the  players,  in  some  cases,  was  to  secure  the  ball, 
when  they  were  said  to  bear  the  ball,  which,  from  the  similarity 
of  sound,  might  be  supposed  (though  erroneously)  to  have  some 
affinity  with  bearing  the  bell.  Bamfield,  in  his  Cynthia,  with 
Certaine  Sonnets  and  the  Legend  of  Cassandra,  1595,  says: — 

"  Yet  one  there  is  for  vertue  so  inclin'd, 
That  as  for  maiesty  she  beares  the  Bell." 

But  Lord  North,  in  his  Forest  of  Varieties,  1645,  p.  175,  em 
ploys  the  expression  in  what  was,  doubtless,  its  primitive  ac 
ceptation  : — 

"  Thus  right,  and  to  each  other  fitted  well, 
They  are  to  run,  and  cannot  misse  the  bell." 


236  THE  PRYDE  AND 

The  scole  house  of  women l  is  nowe  well  practysed, 

And  to  moche  put  in  ure,2 
Whych  maketh  manje  a  mans  hayre  to  growe 

Thorowe  his  hoode,3  you  maye  be  verye  sure. 


A  few  lines  before,  his  Lordship,  who  is  describing  a  horse 
race,  had  written  as  follows : — 

"  Jockey  and  his  Horse  were  by  their  Master  sent, 
To  honour  him  in  hunting,  run,  and  race ; 
To  put  in  for  the  Sell." 

In  the  Guls  Horn  Book,  1609, 4to.  (ed.  Nott,  p.  33),  the  phrase 
is  "  to  bear  away  the  bell,"  which  may  represent  the  expression 
in  its  original  and  unabridged  form.  In  the  poems  of  Dunbar 
and  Lyndsay  "  to  bear  the  pryce  "  is  used  in  a  similar  way : — 

"  There  was  na  play  bot  cards  and  dyce, 
And  ay  schir  flatterie  bure  the  pryce." 

Lyndsay 's  Complaynt,  1529. 

1  The  Schole  house  of  Women  was  a  tract  printed  apparently 
some  time  before  any  edition  of  it  now  known.     It  is  a  severe 
satire  on  the  female  sex.     It  is  alluded  to  by  several  writers  of 
the  period,  and  must  have  been  in  existence  when  Edward 
Gosynhyll   published    his  Mulierum  Pcean  (circa  1544).     The 
Schole  house  of  Women  forms  one  of  the  present  series  of  early 
popular  literature,  and  ;the  reader  will  therefore  be  able  to  form 
his  own  judgment  of  its  character  and  merit. 

2  Use. 

3  i.e.  Go  to  ruin.  So  in  XII  Mery  Jests  of  the  Wydow  Edyth, 
1525,  speaking  of  a  decadent  shoemaker  at  St.  Alban's,  the 
writer  says : — 

"  I  may  say  to  you  he  dwelled  there  so  long, 
Tyll  his  haire  gan  to  grow  throw  his  hoode." 

And  Deloney,  in  his  History  of  Thomas  of  Reading,  written  about 
1597,  has  this  passage: — "Get  me  gone!  quoth  he;  thou  shalt 
not  bid  me  twice :  out,  you  durty  heeles,  you  will  make  your 


ABUSE  OF  WOMEN.  237 

For  there  are  some  prancked  gosseps  every  where, 

Able  to  spyll  a  whole  countrie, 
Whyche  mayntayne  pryde,  ryot,  and  wantonnes, 

Lyke  mothers  of  all  iniquitie. 

Take  hede  to  this,  good  husbandes  all, 

Take  good  hede,  and  beware,  70 

Least  youre  wyves  raymente  and  galante  trickes 

Doo  make  youre  thryfte  full  bare. 

And  loke  well,  ye  men,  to  your  wives  trycksynes, 

Whyche  is  to  shamefull  wide, 
Or  some  wyll  not  sty  eke,  or  *  it  be  longe, 

To  home  you  on  everye  side. 

He  that  is  a  foole  maye  be  a  jacke  da  we, 

And  so  continue  all  hys  lyfe, 
That  loketh  not  wyselye  upon  hys  charge, 

And  the  proude  foly  of  hys  wyfe.  so 

What,  shall  the  graye  mayre  be  the  better  horse, 

And  be  wanton  styll  at  home  ? 
Naye,  then,  wylcome  home,  syr  woodcocke, 

Ye  shall  be  tamed  anone. 


husbands  haire  growe  thorow  his  hood,  I  doubt." — (Ed.  Thorns, 
p.  35.)  Skelton,  in  the  Bowge  of  Couste,  describing  Riot,  says 
of  him  :— 

"  His  here  was  growen  thorowe  oute  his  hat." 

See  also  Dyce's  Skelton,  ii.  114.       » 
1  Before. 


238  THE  PRYDE  AND 

Your  blasynge  wyfe  maje  be  your  sygno 

And  serve  to  call  in  gesse 
A  phasaunte  stale  for  the  devyll  hym  selfe, 

And  a  member  of  all  lewdnesse. 

Youre  charge  is  greate,  youre  honestye  small, 
And  youre  wytte  full  bare,  90 

When  you  sette  more  by  proude  vanytie, 
Then  by  youre  soules  wel  fare 

Wyll,  wyll,  lustye  wylfull  wyU 

Wyll  marre  all,  or  it  be  longe, 
And  cause  the  tryckeste  of  you  all 

To  synge  a  carefull  songe. 

Downe  for  shame  wyth  these  bottell  — rste  b — mmes, 
And  theyr  trappynge  trinkets  so  vayne  ! 

A  bounsinge  packsadel  for  the  devyll  to  ryde  on, 
To  spurre  theym  to  sorowe  and  payne.  100 

It  is  not  proud  rayment  that  maketh  the  honest, 

But  thy  condycions  playne ; 
For  cursed  be  they  that  walcke  wyckedly, 

And  heare  Goddes  worde  in  vayne. 

Kubbe  forthe,  olde  trottes,  to  the  devyl  worde : 

Seme  ye  never  so  holye, 
Your  glosynge  woordes  wyll  not  serve, 

When  your  worckes  be  wycked  &  full  of  foly. 

And  yet  the  devylyshe  wyll  be  proude  styll, 

For  that  is  all  theyr  Melyghte ;  110 


ABUSE  OF  WOMEN.  239 

To  pleese  theyr  lewde  lemmans  all  the  daye, 
And  to  strumpe  it  well  at  njght. 

Ducke,  Jelot,  ducke  ;  ducke,  pretye  minion, 

Beware  the  cokingstoole ; 
Ducke,  galant  trickers,  wyth  shame  ynoughe, 

Your  wanton  corage  for  to  cole. 

Huffa  ! 1  goldylocx,2  joly  lusty  goldylocx ; 

A  wanton  tricker  is  come  to  towne, 
Wyth  a  double  fardingale  and  a  caped  cassoc, 

Moche  lyke  a  players  gowne.  120 

Awaye  wyth  lyght  rayment,  and  learne  to  go  sadly, 

For  that  is  beste  of  all, 
That  in  no  wyse  for  thy  carkas  sake 

Than  caste  awaye  thy  soule. 


1  The  exclamation  of  a  swaggerer  or  bully.      To  huff  is 
explained  by  the  editors  of  Nares  to  mean  to  swagger,  and  no 
doubt  correctly.     In  the  Interlude  of  Youth  (circa  1554)  Rio- 
says : — 

"  Huffa!  huffa!  who  calleth  after  me? 
I  am  Riot,  ful  of  joly te!" 

Which  seems  to  be  imitated  in  the  interlude  of  the  Prodigal 
Child,  introduced  into  Histriomastix,  1610,  4to,  where  the 
"  Prodigal  Child  "  enters  with— 

"  Huffa,  huffa,  who  calles  for  me  ? 
I  play  the  Prodigal  Child  in  jollity." 

2  i.e.    I   presume,   golden-locks.     Jonson,   in   his    Volpone, 
1607,  (Works,  by  Gifford,  iii.  176),  speaks  of  "  goldylocked 
Euphorbus." 


210  THE  PRYDE  AND 

From  Kome,  from  Eome,  this  carkerd  pryde, 

From  Rome  it  came,  doubtles ; 
Awaye  for  shame  wyth  soch  filthy  baggage, 

As  smels  of  papery  and  develyshnes  ! 

Lorde  !  what  Romishe  monsters  make  ye  your  children, 
To  shamefull  to  be  tolde :  130 

Ye  make  them,  sure,  your  god  almyghtes, 
And  popyshe  ydolatry  ye  do  upholde. 

Many  straunge  regions  have  I  bene  in, 

And  marked  well  the  fashyon ; 
But  so  moch  proude  folye  and  wantonnes 

Saw  I  never  in  no  nacyon. 

And  yet  blynd  dotardes  perceyve  not  thys, 

Tyll  they  be  brought  to  thrall ; 
But  styll  wynke,  and  walke  in  the  devyls  wayes, 

Tyll  he  posses  theyr  soule.  140 

Loke  to  thy  householde  wysely, 

And  bryng  them  up  playnely  in  vertue  and  godlynes, 
That  hereafter  they  doo  not  come 
To  no  myschaunce  and  lewdenesse. 

Dysfygure  not  youre  faces,  good  honest  women, 

Wyth  no  lyghte  horyshe  fashyon. 
Lest  it  brynge  you  into  yll  fame 

And  sclaunderous  estemacyon. 


ABUSE  OF  WOMEN.  241 

For  honeste  women  shoulde  stycke  to  honestye, 

And  upholde  no  harlottes  guyse,  150 

But  amende  and  rebuke  all  wanton  lewdnesse, 
And  learne  to  be  sadde  and  wyse. 

Our  lyght  is  oute,  oure  example  is  wycked, 

And  stynckes  before  Goddes  face, 
Because  thee l  devell  wythin  us  doethe  dwell, 

And  resystithe  bothe  vertue  and  grace. 

Nowe,  fye  upon  proude  strumpery, 

And  all  vaine  devyllyshe  stuffe  ! 
Away  wyth  it,  good  people  all, 

Or  loke  for  greate  vengeaunce  &  sorow  ynoughe.    ico 

And  beware  also,  prety  one, 

And  see  that  you  amende  this  gere, 
Or  have  ye  shall  as  many  mookes, 

A.S  ybure  greate can  beare. 

But  come  home  agayne  to  sadnesse, 

And  I  wyll  saye  no  more  ; 
For  yf  you  do  not  shortlye, 

My  pen  must  vexe  you  sore. 

And  now,  ryght  worthy  and  sadde  women  all, 

With  you  no  faulte  I  fynde,  170 

For  your  good  honestye  and  sadde  demeanor 
Doeth  well  shewe  your  godly  mynde. 


1  i.  e.  the. 
VOL.  IV.  B 


242  THE  PRYDE  AND 

And  I  speake  not  agaynste  no  playne  women, 

As  walke  in  godlye  wyse ; 
But  agaynst  such  wanton  dyssemblers, 

As  doeth  Goddes  truthe  despyse. 

And  therefore,  I  truste,  no  honest  women 

Herewyth  wyl  be  offended, 
But  suche  as  lyve  ungracyously, 

And  lyst  not  to  be  amended.  iso 

We  wonder  moche  at  these  nyppynge  plages, 

That  daylie  on  us  doo  fall ; 
But  nothynge  we  wonder  at  oure  synfull  fashions, 

That  are  chefe  cause  of  all. 


Wherfore  reformacyon  wyll  come  shortlye, 

And  put  you  to  more  shame, 
And  teache  you  to  knowe  gods  lawes  and  your  kinges, 

And  to  walke  in  better  frame. 


For  your  b wyll  be  better  bounst  at, 

Or  it  will  be  verye  longe,  190 

And  make  suche  lustye  bounsyng  ones 
To  syng  a  playner  songe. 

For  thoughe  some  take  the  matter  hylye, 

And  sore  be  offended  here  wythall, 
Yet  maye  I  not  spare  to  speake  the  truthe, 

Howe  pryde  wyll  have  a  fall. 


ABUSE  OF  WOMEN.  243 

Rubbe  a  galde  horse  on  thee1  backe, 

And  he  wyll  kicke  and  wynse ; 
And  so  wyll  wanton  wyljons 

When  they  have  anye  snaper  or  twynche.  200 

But  kycke  &  wynche,  clatter  and  chatter, 

At  the  truthe,  as  moche  as  you  lyste, 
Your  pryde  wyll  come  downe  wyth  shame  ynoughe, 

Beware  of  had  I  wyste.2 

For  preachyng  and  teachyng  we  ar  never  the  better, 

But  rather  worse  and  worse : 
The  heathen  lyve  farre  better  then  we, 

And  therefore  have  we  Goddes  curse. 

We  trust  and  beleve,  we  can  not  tell  howe, 

Even  as  we  lyste  oure  selves ;  210 

But  that  trust  and  fayth  muste  we  amende, 
Or  hell  fyre  shall  we  posses. 

To  presume  on  Goddes  mercye  is  as  greate  a  faute, 

As  too  dyspayre  therein  : 
For  yf  thy  faythe  bee  not  perfecte  good, 

Thy  truste  is  not  worthe  a  pyn. 

1  i.e.  the.     Had    Bansley  in    his   recollection  the    title  of 
Ramsey's  tract,  "A  Plaister  for  a  Galled   Horse,"  when  he 
wrote  this  line?    If  so,  as  Ramsey's  book  was  not  published  till 
1548,  the  present  tract  must  have  appeared  after  that  year. 
We  may  be  sure  that  it  was  not  printed  till  the  accession  of 
Edward  VI. 

2  See  Add.  Notes. 


244   PRTDE  AND  ABUSE  OF  WOMEN. 

Remember  that  hell  is  a  wofull  place, 
Full  of  all  cruell  paynes  and  tormentes, 

And  it  is  not  thy  wavering  fayned  fayth 

That  can  delyver  the  from  thens.  220 

O  foole,  foole !  more  then  starke  madde, 

Not  sure  to  lyve  one  houre  ! 
How  darest  thou  so  proudely  offend  thy  Lorde  God, 

Of  sbche  almyghty  power  ? 

Lyve  godly,  and  do  good  worckes, 

And  spend  thy  shorte  tyme  well : 
For  a  wanton  lyfe  and  vycyous 

Is  the  very  ryghte  waye  to  hell. 

And  thus  God  sende  us  grace  everychone, 

In  vertue  and  sadnes  to  remayne,  230 

And  for  oure  sad  &,  honest  playnes, 
A  joyefull  place  in  heaven. 

God  save  kyng  Edward,  and  his  noble  counsail  al, 

And  sende  us  peace  and  reste, 
And  of  thys  pryde  and  devylyshe  folye 

Full  soone  to  have  redresse. 


<S|ucto  (Efjatles 


3|mprinten  at  JUntJott  in  pattleg  C&urcT)  pearae  at  tftee  "Spgne  ot 


for  Upstart  iSetofangleti 
®entletoomen. 

QUIPPES  for  Upstart  Newfangled  Gentlewomen.  Or,  a 
Glasse  to  view  the  Pride  of  vainglorious  Women.  Con 
taining  a  Pleasant  invective  against  the  Fantastical  Forreigne 
Toyes  dayly  vsed  in  Womens  Apparell.  Imprinted  at  London 
by  Richard  Jhones,  at  the  Sigue  of  the  Rose  and  Crowne,  near 
to  S.  Andrewes  Church  in  Holbourne.  1595,  4to,  7  leaves. 

Pleasant  Quippes  for  Upstart  Newfangled  Gentlewomen. 
Woodcut  on  title.  Imprinted  at  London  by  Richard  Jhones. 
1596,  4to. 

Reprinted  for  the  Percy  Society,  1841,  8vo.  Again,  from 
the  private  press  of  Great  Totham,  Essex,  1847,  8vo. 

Although  the  grossness  of  this  misogynic  invective  deterred  the 
Council  of  the  Percy  Society  from  sanctioning  the  circulation 
among  the  members,  it  seemed  to  the  editor  too  curious  a  piece 
to  be  excluded  from  the  present  collection,  especially  as  its  omis 
sion  would  have  left  a  gap  in  the  series  of  poetical  treatises  of  a 
similar  kind  now  reproduced.  No  one  can  soberly  pretend  that 
a  disservice  is  rendered  to  the  cause  of  virtue  and  morality  by 
these  revivals  of  forgotten  literature  :  for  those,  who  view  such 
matters  in  a  proper  light,  will  only  value  these  early  satirical 
attempts  for  the  illustrations  which  they  casually  supply  of 
ancient  manners,  while  it  is  too  well  known  that  such  as  are  so 
unhappily  constituted  as  to  esteem  them  solely  on  account  of 


246  PLEASANT   QUIPPES. 

their  ribald  passages,  enjoy  abundant  opportunities  of  gratifying 
their  tastes  elsewhere,  and  have  no  occasion  to  seek  recourse  to 
Elizabethan  lampoons. 

A  long  extract  from  Pleasant  Quippes  is  given  by  Brydges 
in  his  Restituta,  iii.  256-7.  Prefixed  to  the  Pleasant  Historic  oj 
the  West  India,  translated  by  T.  Nicholas,  1578,  4to,  are  six 
English  stanzas  and  twelve  hexameters  and  pentameters  in 
Latin,  by  S.  Gosson.  Some  commendatory  verses  signed 
S.  G[osson?]  are  prefixed  to  Drayton's  Endimion  and  Phoebe 
(1594),  4to. 

Gosson  has  also  verses  before  Florio's  Firsts  Frutes,  1578,  and 
Kerton's  Mirror  of  .Man's  Life,  1580.  The  latter  consist  of  a 
Poem,  entitled  "  Speculum  Humanum,"  in  six  eleven-line 
stanzas. 

In  the  Registers  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  it  is  entered  to 
the  publisher  in  the  following  terms : — 

"[xvij°  Januarij,  1594-5.]  Richard  Jones.  Entred  for  his 
copie  ....  a  booke  entituled  A  glasse  for  vayne- 
glorious  Women,  conteyninge  an  envectyve  a- 
gainste  the  fantasticall  devices  in  Womens  ap- 
parell  .  .  .  .  .  •  .  .  vjd 

The  annexed  representation  of  the  original  title-page  is  taken 
from  that  issued  in  1841,  which  itself  was  a  facsimile  of  a  pre 
sentation  copy  of  the  edition  of  1596,  with  Gosson's  autograph 
inscription  upon  it. 


Pleasant 

(Rutppes  for  Upstart 

Newfangled  Gentlewomen. 


Imprinted  at  London  by  Richard  Johnes. 
1596. 


A  GLASSE  TO  VIEWE  THE  PRIDE  OF 
VAINEGLORIOUS  WOMEN. 

A  Pleafant  Inveftive  againil  the  Fantaftical  Forreigne 
Toy  esdayly  ufed  in  Womens  apparel. 


HESE  fashions  fonde  of  countrey  strange 
Which  English  heads  so  much  delight, 
Through  towne  and  countrie  which  do  range, 

And  are  imbrac'd  of  every  wight, 
So  much  I  woonder  still  to  see, 
That  nought  so  much  amazeth  me. 


If  they  by  painters  cunning  skill 

Were  prickt  on  walles  to  make  them  gaye 
If  glasse  in  windowes  they  did  fill, 
Or  trimd-up  puppets,  childrens  play, 
I  would  repute  them  antickes  olde ; 
They  should  for  me  go  uncontrolde. 


If  they  on  stage  in  stately  sort 

Might  set  to  please  the  idle[r]s  eie  ; 


10 


250         PLEASANT  QUIPPES  FOR 

If  Maie-game  mates 1  for  summer  sport 
By  them  in  daunce  disguisde  might  be, 
•    They  would  not  then  deserve  such  blame, 
Nor  worke  the  wearers  half  the  shame. 

But  when  as  men  of2  lore  and  wit 

And  guiders  of  the  weaker  kinde,  20 

Doe  judge  them  for  their  mate[sj  so  fit, 
That  nothing  more  can  please  their  mind, 
I  know  not  what  to  say  to  this  ; 
But  sure  I  know  it  is  amisse. 

And  when  sage  parents  breede  in  childe 

The  greedy  lust  of  hellish  toyes, 
Whereby  in  manners  they  growe  wilde, 
And  lose  the  blisse  of  lasting  joyes, 
I  pittie  much  to  see  the  case, 
That  we  thus  faile  of  better  grace.  so 

And  when  proud  princoks,3  rascals  bratte, 

In  fashion  will  be  princes  mate  ; 
And  every e  Gill  that  keepes  a  catte 

In  rayment  will  be  like  a  state: 

1  So  ed.  1595.     Ed.  of  1596  reads  matels. 

2  Old  eds.  have  or. 

*  Coxcombs,    upstart    simpletons.      So    in    Newe    Custome, 
1573:— 

"  Perverse  Doctrine.    Thinkest  thou  I  have  no  logique, 

indeede  thinkest  thou  soe? 
Yes,  princockes,  that  I  have." 

The  word  is  not  common.  Mr.  Halliwell  (Archaic  Dictionary, 
art.  PRINCOCK)  gives  princox  and  princy  cock  as  other  forms  of 
the  same  expression. 


UPSTART   GENTLEWOMEN.        251 

If  any  cause  be  to  complaine, 
In  such  excuse  who  can  refraine  ? 


And  when  young  wiskers,  fit  for  worke, 

In  no  good  sort  will  spend  the  day, 
But  be  prophane  more  then  a  Turke, 

Intending  nought  but  to  be  gay,  40 

If  we  were  bent  to  praise  our  time, 
Of  force  we  must  condemne  this  crime. 

And  when  grave  matrones,  honest  thought, 

With  light  heeles  trash  will  credite  cracke, 
And  following  after  fashions  nought, 
Of  name  and  fame  will  make  a  wracke, 
Might  love  and  lip  a  fault  conceale, 
Yet  act  and  fact  would  filth  reveale. 

And  when  old  beldames,  withered  hagges, 

Whom  hungrie  dogges  cannot  require,  50 

Will  whinnie  still,  like  wanton  wagges, 
And  sadled  be  with  such  attire, 
A  patient  beast  cannot  but  rage 
To  see  the  shame  of  this  our  age. 

These  Holland  smockes  so  white  as  snowe, 

And  gorgets  brave  with  drawn-work  wrought, 
A  tempting  ware  they  are,  you  know 

Wherewith  (as  nets)  vaine  youths  are  caught ; 
But  manie  times  they  rew  the  match, 
When  pox  and  pyles  by  whores  they  catch.  «<? 


252        PLEASANT  QUIPPES  FOE 

These  flaming  heads  with  staring  haire, 

These  wyers  turnde  like  homes  of  rani : 
These  painted  faces  which  they  vveare, 
Can  any  tell  from  whence  they  cam  ? 
Dan  Sathan,  Lord  of  fayned  lyes, 
All  these  new  fangeles  did  devise. 

These  glittering  cawles  of  golden  plate, 

Wherewith  their  heads  are  richlie  dect, 
Make  them  to  seeme  an  angels  mate 

In  judgement  of  the  simple  sect :  70 

To  peacockes  I  compare  them  right, 
That  glorieth  in  their  feathers  bright. 

These  perriwigges,  ruffes  armed  with  pinnes, 

These  spangles,  chains,  and  laces  all ; 
These  naked  paps,  the  Devils  ginnes, 
To  worke  vaine  gazers  painfull  thrall : 
He  fowler  is,  they  are  his  nets, 
Wherewith  of  fooles  great  store  he  gets. 

This  starch,1  and  these  rebating  props,2 

As  though  ruffes  were  some  rotten  house,  so 

1  "4  July  [1590J  Wm  Wrighte.  Entred  to  him  for  his  copie 

a  ballad  intituled  Blewe  starche  and  poting 

[poking]  stickes        .         ,        »         .     vid " 

—Mr.  Collier's  Extr.  from  Stat.  Reg. 

(Notes  and  Queries,  2  S.  xii.  449). 

2  Otherwise  called  supportasses.     They  were  used  during  the 
reign  of  Elizabeth,  more  particularly  the  latter  part  of  it,  to 
support  the  ruff,  which  formed  so  important  and  conspicuous  a 
feature  of  female  dress  at  that  period.  Stubbes,  in  his  Anatomic 


UPSTART  GENTLEWOMEN.      253 

All  this  new  pelfe  now  sold  in  shops, 
In  value  true  not  worth  a  louse  ; 
They  are  his  dogs,  he  hunter  sharp : 
By  them  a  thousand  he  doth  warpe. 

of  Abuses,  1583,  speaks  of  the  supportasse  as  "a  certain  device 
made  of  wires,  crested  for  the  purpose  &  whipped  all  over 
either  with  gold  thread,  silver,  or  silk."  Nash,  in  his  Pierce 
Penilesse,  1592,  uses  the  term  rebater  figuratively,  where, 
speaking  of  "  drudges,  who  filche  themselues  into  some  noble- 
mans  service,"  he  says : — "  Their  lordes  authoritie  is  a  rebater 
to  bear  vp  the  peacockes  tayle  of  their  boasting." 

The  ruff  was,  of  course,  exposed  to  the  satirical  attacks  of 
the  ballad  writers  during  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  James. 
In  1560-1  John  Sampson  paid  fourpence  for  his  right  to  print 
"  a  ballad  called  of  Ruffe,  Sleeves,  and  hose,"  and  a  little  later 
(1563-4),  the  Stationers'  Company  received  of  John  Charlwood 
eightpence  for  licence  to  print  two  ballads,  one  of  which  was 
"of  Ruffe?  and  of  longe  sleeves."  Mr.  Collier  (Extr.  Reg. 
Stat.  Co.  i.  36),  notices  that,  on  the  8th  May,  1562,  a  Proclama 
tion  appeared  against  "  great  ruffs  and  great  breeches,"  but  the 
ordinance  does  not  seem  to  have  produced  much  effect.  In 
1615,  was  published  "  a  merrie  Dialogue  betweene  Band,  Cuffe, 
&  Ruffe,"  a  species  of  costume  shew  ;  the  piece  became  popular, 
and  in  the  same  year  it  was  reprinted  with  a  new  title: 
"  Exchange  Ware  at  the  Second  Hand.  Viz.  Band,  Ruffe,  and 
Cuffe,  lately  out,  and  now  newly  dearned  vp.  Or  A  Dialogve, 
acted  in  a  Shew  in  the  famous  Vniuersitie  of  Cambridge." 

In  1566  appeared  a  ballad  entitled  "The  True  description  of 
a  Childe  with  Ruffes  borne  in  the  parish  of  Micheham,  in  the 
Countie  of  Surrey  in  the  yeere  of  our  Lord  1566,"  and  in  1587 
Henry  Carre  paid  fourpence  for  permission  to  print  "  a  newe 
ballad  intituled  Stowp  Gallant,  concerning  a  child  borne  with 
great  Ruffes."  The  statement  in  the  last-quoted  item,  that  the 
ballad  was  newe,  may  or  may  not  have  been  correct;  but  at  all 
events,  on  the  9th  July,  1579-80,  Richard  Jones  had  licence  to 
print  Stowpe  gallante  in  ij.  ballads.  See  Collier's  Extracts,  ii. 
119,  226,  and  "an  Elizabethan  Garland,"  1856,  p.  16. 


254         PLEASANT  QUIPPES  FOR 

This  cloth  of  price,  all  cut  in  ragges, 

These  monstrous  bones  that  compasse  armes ; 
These  buttons,  pinches,  fringes,  jagges, 
With  them  he  weaveth  wofull  harmes. 
He  fisher  is,  they  are  his  baytes, 
Wherewith  to  hell  he  draweth  huge1  heaps.    90 

Were2  masks  for  vailes  to  hide  and  holde, 

As  Christians  did,  &  Turkes  do  use, 
To  hide  the  face  from  wantons  bolde 

Small  cause  then  were  at  them  to  muse  ; 
But  barring  onely  wind  and  sun, 
Of  verie  pride  they  were  begun. 

But  on  each  wight  now  are  they  seene, 
The  tallow-pale,  the  browning-bay, 
The  swarthie-blacke,  the  grassie-greene, 

The  pudding  red,  the  dapple  graie ;  100 

So  might  we  judge  them  toyes  aright 
To  keepe  sweet  beautie  still  in  plight. 

What  els  do  maskes  but  maskers  show  ? 

And  maskers  can  both  dance  and  play : 
Our  masking  dames  can  sport,  you  knowe, 
Sometime  by  night,  sometime  by  day : 
Can  you  hit  it,3  is  oft  their  daunce, 
Deuse-ace  fals  stil  to  be  their  chance. 


1  Not  in  ed.  1596.  2  Old  eds.  have  Weare. 

3  A  dance  so  called.     There  is  an  apparent  reference  to  it  in 
Love's  Labour's  Lost.  1598,  act  iv.  sc.  2;  and  it  is  also  quoted 


UPSTART  GENTLEWOMEN.      255 

Were  fannes,  and  flappes  of  feathers  fond, 

To  flit  away  the  flisking  flies,  no 

As  taile  of  mare  that  hangs  on  ground, 
When  heat  of  summer  doth  arrise, 
The  wit  of  women  we  might  praise 
For  finding  out  so  great  an  ease. 

But  seeing  they  are  stil  in  hand, 

In  house,  in  field,  in  church,  in  street, 
In  summer,  winter,  water,  land, 
In  cold,  in  heate,  in  drie,  in  weet, 

I  judge  they  are  for  wives  such  tooles, 

As  babies1  are  in  playes  for  fooles.  120 

The  baudie  buske  that  keepes  downe  flat 

The  bed  wherein  the  babe  should  breed, 
What  doth  it  els  but  point  at  that 

Which  faine  would  have  somewhat  to  feede  : 
Where  bellie  want  might  shadow  vale, 
The  buske  sets  bellie  all  to  sale. 

Were2  buskes  to  them  as  stakes  to  gappes, 
To  barre  the  beastes  from  breaking  in ; 

in  the  drama  of  Wily  BeguiVd,  1606  (but  written  before  the 
death  of  Elizabeth).  The  following  is  the  passage  from  Love's 
Labour's  Lost: — 

"  Eos.  Thou  canst  not  hit  it,  hit  it,  hit  it, 

Thou  canst  not  hit  it,  my  good  man. 
Soyet.  An  I  cannot,  cannot,  cannot, 

An  I  cannot,  another  can." 
See  Additional  Notes. 

1  The  baubles  which  formed  inseparable  adjuncts  to  the  cos 
tume  of  fools  in  plays.     See  Brydges'  Restituta,  iii.  257,  note. 
8  So  the  ed.  of  1595,  but  ed.  of  1596  has  where. 


256        PLEASANT  QUIPPES  FOR 

Or  were  they  shields  to  beare  off  flaps, 

When  friend  or  foe  would  fray  begin,  iso 

Who  would  the  buskers  forte  assaile  ? 
Against  their  sconce  who  could  prevaile  ? 

But  seeing  such  as  whome  they  anne, 

Of  all  the  rest  do  soonest  yeeld, 
And  that  by  shot  they  take  most  harme, 
When  lustie  gamesters  come  in  field, 
I  guess  buskes  are  but  signes  to  tell 
Where  launderers  for  the  campe  do  dwell. 

These  privie  coates,  by  art  made  strong 

With  bones,  with  past,  with  such  like  ware,      uo 
Whereby  their  backe  and  sides  grow  long, 
And  now  they  harnest1  gallants  are ; 
Were  they  for  use  against  the  foe, 
Our  dames  for  Amazones  might  goe. 

But  seeing  they  doe  only  stay 

The  course  that  nature  doth  intend, 
And  mothers  often  by  them  slay 

Their  daughters  young,  and  worke  their  end, 
What  are  they  els  but  armours  stout, 
Wherein  like  gyants  Jove  they  flout  ?  iso 

These  hoopes,  that  hippes  and  haunch  do  hide, 
And  heave  aloft  the  gay  hoyst  traine, 


Ed.  of  1595  has  harvest. 


UPSTART  GENTLEWOMEN.      257 

As  they  are  now  in  use  for  pride, 
So  did  they  first  beginne  of  paine : 

When  whores  in  stewes  had  gotten  poxe, 
This  French  device  kept  coats  from  smocks. 

I  not  gainsay  but  bastards  sprout 

Might  a — s  greate  at  first  begin ; 
And  that  when  paunch  of  whore  grow  out, 

These  hoopes  did  helpe  to  hide  their  sinne ;       ieo 
And  therefore  tub-tailes  ah1  may  rue, 
That  they  came  from  so  vile  a  crue. 

If  barreld  b — s  were  full  of  ale, 

They  well  might  serve  Tom  Tapsters  turne ; 
But  yeelding  nought  but  filth  and  stale, 
No  losse  it  were,  if  they  did  burne : 
Their  liquors  doth  so  smell  and  stinke, 
That  no  man  can  it  use  for  drinke. 

These  aprones  white  of  finest  thrid, 

So  choicelie  tide,1  so  dearlie  bought,  170 

So  finely  fringed,2  so  nicelie  spred, 
So  quaintlie  cut,  so  richlie  wrought ; 
Were  they  in  worke  to  save  their  cotes, 
They  need  not  cost  so  many  grotes. 

When  shooters  aime  at  buttes  and  prickes, 
They  set  up  whites,  and  shew  the  pinne : 


1  Ed.  of  1595  has  etide.  a  Ed.  of  1596  basfring. 

VOL.  IV.  S 


258       PLEASANT  QUIPPES  FOR 

It  may  be  aprones  are  like  tricks 

To  teach  where  rovers  game  may  winne. 
Brave  archers  soone  will  find  the  marke, 
But  bunglers  hit  it  in  the  darke.  iso 

These  worsted  stockes  of  bravest  die, 

And  silken  garters  fring'd  with  gold ; 
These  corked  shooes  to  beare  them  hie 
Makes  them  to  trip  it  on  the  niolde : 
They  mince  it  with  a  pace  so  strange, 
Like  untam'd  heifers,  when  they  range. 

To  carrie  all  this  pelfe  and  trash, 
Because  their  bodies  are  unfit, 
Our  wantons  now  in  coaches  dash, 
From  house  to  house,  from  street  to  street.       190 
Were  they  of  state,  or  were  they  lame, 
To  ride  in  coach  they  need  not  shame. 

But  being  base,1  &  sound  in  health, 

They  teach  for  what  are  coaches  make : 

Some  think,  perhaps,  to  shew  their  wealth. 

Nay,  nay,  in  them  they  penaunce  take. 

As  poorer  truls  must  ride  in  cartes, 

So  coaches  are  for  prouder  hearts. 

You  sillie  men  of  simple  sence, 

What  joy  have  you  old  cookes  to  be  ?  200 


i.e.  of  low  birth. 


UPSTART  GENTLEWOMEN.       259 

Your  owne  deare  flesh  thus  to  dispence, 
To  please  the  glance  of  lusting  eie, 

That  you  should  coutch  your  meat  in  dish, 
And  others  feele  it  is  no  fish  ? 

Of  verie  love  you  them  array 

In  silver,  gold,  and  jewels  brave : 
For  silke  and  velvet  still  you  pay ; 

So  they  be  trimmed,  no  cost  you  save. 
But,  think  you,  such  as  joy  in  these 
Will  covet  none  but  you  to  please  ?  210 

When  they  for  goodes  and  toyes  do  wrangle, 

Pretending  state  and  neighbours  guise, 
Then  are  they  bent  to  trap  and  tangle, 
Unskilful  braines  and  heads  unwise. 
I  never  yet  saw  bayted  hooke, 
But  fisher  then  for  game  did  looke. 

They  say  they  are  of  gentle  race, 

And  therefore  must  be  finely  deckt : 
It  were  for  them  a  great  disgrace 

To  be  as  are  the  simple  sect.  220 

Fine  gentles  must  be  finely  clad  ; 
All  them  beseemes,  that  may  be  had. 

They  gentle  are  both  borne  and  bred  ; 
They  gentle  are  in  sport  and  game ; 
They  gentle  are  at  boord  and  bed, 
They  gentle  are  in  wealth  and  name. 
Such  gentles  nice  must  needs  be  trimme 
From  head  to  foot,  in  everie  limme. 


260         PLEASANT  QUIPPES  FOR 

But  husbands,  you  marke  well  my  sawes : 

When  they  pretend  their  gentle  Wood,  230 

Then  they  intend  to  make  you  dawes, 
In  vaine  to  spend  your  wealth  aud  good. 
You  better  were  the  clowne  to  cloath, 
Then  gentles  which  doe  vertue  loath. 

True  gentles  should  be  lightes  and  guides 

In  modest  path  to  simple  ranke  ; 
But  these  that  straye  so  farre  aside 

Themselves  that  thus  unseemlie  pranke, 
They  are  but  puppets  richly  dight : 
True  gentrie  they  have  put  to  flight.  240 

You  daintie  minions,  tell  me  sooth, 
Dissemble  not,  but  utter  plaine, 
Is  not  this  thus  of  verie  troth  ? 

Thinke  you  I  slaunder,  lie,  or  faine? 
When  you  have  all  your  trinkets  fit, 
Can  you  alone  in  chamber  sit  ? 

You  are  not  then  to  carde  &  spinne, 
To  brue  or  bake,  I  dare  well  say : 
No  thriftie  worke  you  can  beginne, 

You  have  nought  els  to  doe  but  play.  250 

To  play  alone  were  for  a  sot,1 
Its  knowne  you  minions  use  it  not. 

You  thinke  (perhaps)  to  win  great  fame 
By  uncouth  sutes  and  fashions  wilde : 


A  fool. 


UPSTART  GENTLEWOMEN.      261 

All  such  as  know  you  thinke  the  same, 
But  in  ech  kind  you  are  beguilde ; 
For  when  you  looke  for  praises  sound, 
Then  are  you  for  light  fisgiggs  crown  de. 

The  better  sort,  that  modest  are, 

Whom  garish  pompe  doth  not  infect,  2W 

Of  them  Dame  Honour  hath  a  care, 
With  glorious  fame  that  they  be  deckt : 
Their  praises  will  for  aie  remaine, 
When  bodies  rot,  shall  vertue  gaine. 

Thou  poet  rude,  if  thou  be  scorn'd, 

Disdaine  it  not ;  for  preachers  grave 
Are  still  dispis'd  by  faces  hornde, 
When  they  for  better  manners  crave : 
That  hap  which  fals  on  men  divine, 
If  thou  it  feele,  doe  not  repine.  270 

I  know  some  think  my  tearmes  are  grosse ; 
Too  plaine  thou  art,  some  others  deeme  : 
Be  not  agast,  thy  foes  are  drosse  ; 

Full  well  doth  rudnesse  them  beseeme. 
Who  thee  mislike,  are  but  a  messe, 
And  here  their  kinds  I  will  expresse. 

First,  a  simple  swaine  that  nothing  knowes  ; 

Next,  curtaile  flurt,  as  ranke  as  beast; 
Then  peacocke  proud  that  statelie  goes  ; 

Last,  roisting  knaves  of  vertue  least.  2  so 

None  els  but  these  will  thee  disdaine  : 
Contemue  them  all  as  causes  vaine. 


262        PLEASANT  QUIPPES,  ETC. 

Good  men  of  skill  doe  know  it  well, 

That  these  our  dayes  require  such  speech ; 
Who  oft  are  moved  with  threats  of  hell, 
Whome  preachers  still  in  vaine  beseech, 
Is  any  knife  too  sharpe  for  such, 
Or  any  word  for  them  too  much  ? 

Let  fearfull  poets  pardon  crave, 

That  seeke  for  praise  at  everie  lips ; 
Doe  thou  not  favor,  nor  yet  rave : 
The  golden  meane  is  free  from  trips. 
This  lesson  old  was  taught  in  schooles ; 
Its  praise  to  he  dispraisde  of  fooles. 


a  ipiece  of  jFriar  16acon0 


A  PIECE  of  Friar  Bacons  Brazen-heads  Prophesie.  By  Wil- 
^-~A-  Ham  Terilo.  London.  Printed  by  T.  C.  for  Arthur  lohn- 
son,  dwelling  in  Powles  Church-yard,  at  the  Signe  of  the  white 
Horse.  1604.  4to.  18  leaves. 

This  well-written  and  entertaining  tract  has  been  already 
printed  for  the  Percy  Society ;  but  it  deserves  on  more  than  one 
account  reproduction  here.  In  presenting  it  to  the  reader  once 
more,  a  careful  collation  of  the  original  text  has  been  obtained 
from  the  only  known  copy,  which  is  among  Burton's  books  at 
Oxford.  It  is  bound  up  with  several  other  rare  articles. 

The  press-mark  of  the  volume  is  J.  27,  and  the  following  is  a 
list  of  the  contents : — 

1.  Hey  wood,  (Tho.,)  First  and  Second  Parts  of  King  Edward 
IV,  a  play.     1613. 

2.  Hero  and  Leander.     Begun  by  Christopher  Marlowe,  and 
finished  by  George  Chapman.     1606. 

3.  King  James  his  Entertainment  at  Theobalds.     By  John 
Savile.     1603. 

4.  Skelton's  Elinour  Rumming.     1624. 

5.  Newton's  Atropeion  Delion.     1603. 

6.  A  Piece  of  Friar  Bacons  Brazen-heads  Prophesie.     1604. 

7.  The  Legend  of  Humphrey  Duke  of  Gloucester.     By  Chr. 
Middleton.     1600. 


264      FRIAR  BACONS  PROPHESIE. 

8.  The  Countess  of  Pembroke's  Ivychurch.     By  A.  Fraunce. 
Parts  I.  and  II.  only.     1591. 

9.  Lamentations  of  Amyntas  for  the  Death  of  Phillis.     By 
Tasso.     Transl.  by  A.  Fraunce.     [1587.] 

10.  The  Ethiopian  History  of  Heliodorus,  translated  by  Un- 
derdowne.     1587. 

11.  Countess  of  Pembroke's  Emanuel.      By  A.   Fraunce. 
1591. 

It  is  not  possible,  as  far  as  our  information  goes  at  present,  to 
identify  William  Terilo  with  any  known  writer  of  James  the 
First's  reign.  The  name  itself  is  pretty  evidently  fictitious. 

The  author  has  resorted  to  the  "  Famous  History  of  Friar 
Bacon"  for  little  more  than  the  fatal  words  Time  is  Past,  which 
gave  the  deathblow  to  the  Friar's  ever  memorable  scheme  for 
surrounding  his  country  with  a  wall  of  brass,  superseding  all 
other  defences,  and  making  the  modern  system  of  Ironclads  look 
like  child's  play  by  comparison ! 


A 

PIECE  OF  FRIAR  BACONS 

Brazen-heads  Pro- 
phefie. 

By  William  Terilo. 


LONDON 

Printed  for  T.  C.  for  Arthur  lohnfon,  dwelling  in  Powles 

Church-yard,  at.  the  iigne  of  the 

White  Horfe. 

1604. 


TO  THE  READER 

JENTLE  Reader,  is  such  a  stale  title  to  put 
upon  you,  that  not  knowing  your  disposi 
tion  to  this  same  universal  gentlenes,  and 
perhaps  at  this  time,  so  ful  of  melancholy, 
as  maks  you  unfit  for  any  such  kindres :  I  had  rather 
say,  you  that  read,  if  you  have  so  much  idle  time  to 
passe  away,  as  may  he  somewhat  better  then  lost,  in 
perusing  this  change,  or  rather  dreame  of  the  change 
of  times,  I  pray  you  for  this  time  to  have  patience, 
and  if  an  other  time  in  this  you  take  pleasure,  I  will 
as  I  can  take  a  time  to  run  a  better  course  to  your 
contentment.  Friar  Bacons  Brazen-head,  was  said,  (in 
lest),  to  have  spoken  of  three  times  : — The  Time  was, 
the  Time  is,  and  Time  shall  be:  now  for  myselfe,  I 
cannot  goe  so  farre  :  what  was,  at  least  of  late,  I  have 
a  little  read,  heard,  and  understood :  of  the  time  pre 
sent  I  only  dreamed ;  but  of  what  is  to  come,  I  can  say 
nothing ;  and,  therefore,  making  no  Chronicle  of  the 
first,  and  onely  shewing  my  dreame  of  the  second,  I 
will  make  no  Prophesie  of  the  third,  but  leave  all  to 
God's  pleasure;  and  so,  leaving  you  to  judge  of  all 
times  as  you  have  reason,  I  take  my  leave  of  you  at 
this  time  ;  but  rest  at  all  times, 

Your  friend,  as  I  find  cause  and  time, 
WILLIAM  TERILO. 


a  Piece  of  Jfriar  TBacons  TBra^en 


TIME  WAS,  TIME  IS. 


I  was  but  a  Boye, 
And  plaide  with  little  Girles, 
And  more  esteera'd  a  toye 

Then  pretious  stones,  or  Pearles, 
Then  Natures  love,  that  knew  no  pride, 
With  litle  would  be  satisfide. 


Then  friends  would  not  fall  out, 
But  soone  fall  in  againe  : 

When  none  would  goe  about 
To  laie  a  wicked  traine  ; 

But  kindnesse  was  in  such  request, 

That  malice  knew  not  where  to  rest. 

Content  was  then  a  king, 

Although  he  ware  no  Crowne  ; 


10 


FRIAR  BACONS  PROPHESIED      269 

And  twas  a  wondrous  thing 

Would  make  a  Mayden  frowne  ; 
When  twas  no  litle  grace  to  Nature 
For  to  be  call'd  a  gentle  Creature. 

The  Milke-maydes  paile  was  sweete, 

The  Shepheards  Cloake  was  cleane  :  20 

And  when  their  Loves  did  meete, 
They  did  no  falshood  meane. 

While  Truth  did  in  their  passions  try, 

There  could  not  passe  a  thought  awry. 

Then  observation  found 

The  passage  of  those  partes, 
Where  Keason  laide  the  ground 

Of  all  Experience  Artes. 
While  Love  was  rulde  by  Grace, 
To  seeke  his  spirits  resting  place.  so 

Then  praise  grew  of  desert, 

Desert  of  true  conceit : 
Whose  tongue  was  in  the  hart, 

That  could  not  hide  deceit ; 
But  he  or  she  was  held  a  fiend, 
That  would  be  false  unto  a  friend. 

Then  Shepheards  knew  the  times 

And  seasons  of  the  yeare, 
And  made  their  honest  Rimes, 

In  mirth  and  merry  cheare ;  40 

And  Sim  and  Su,  would  kindly  kisse, 
When  nothing  could  be  ment  amisse. 


270  FRIAR   BACONS 

Then  Sheepes  eyes  were  not  watcht, 
That  Lambes  did  waking  keepe  ; 

And  when  the  Hen  had  hatcht, 
The  Chickens  might  goe  peepe : 

When  snares  were  set,  both  day  and  night, 

To  hang  the  Buzzard  and  the  Kite. 

The  Henne,  the  Goose,  the  Ducke, 

Might  cackle,  creake,  and  quacke  :  50 

When  not  an  Owle  would  plucke 
A  feather  from  her  backe  ; 

Except  she  crowed,  or  would  not  laie, 

Then  roast  her  on  a  holy  day. 

The  Butchers  then  would  keepe 
Their  flesh  from  blowing  Flies, 

And  Maidens  would  not  sleepe, 
But  in  the  morning  rise, 

And  hunt  a  Flea  so  in  the  bed, 

He  knew  not  where  to  hide  his  head.  60 

Then  neither  Wolfe  nor  Foxe, 
But  that  did  feare  the  Hound  ; 

Nor  greatest  headed  Oxe, 
But  to  the  yoake  was  bound  : 

Nor  drawing  Tit  but  knew  who  there, 

Nor  Asse,  but  did  his  burden  beare. 

Then  Gates  were  knowne  from  rie, 
And  Barley  from  the  Wheate  ; 

A  Cheese-Cake  and  a  Pie 

Were  held  good  country  meate.  TO 


PROPHESIE.  27 

When  Ale,  and  Spice,  and  Curdes,  and  Creame, 
Would  make  a  Scholler  make  a  Theame. 


And  then  when  wooers  met, 

It  was  a  sport  to  see 
How  soone  the  match  was  set, 

How  well  they  did  agree  : 
When  that  the  Father  gave  the  childe, 
And  then  the  mother  sat  and  smilde. 

Delaies  were  then  like  death 

To  any  kinde  desire ;  so 

When  no  man  spent  his  breath, 

To  be  no  whit  the  nigher : 
But  Truth  and  Trust  so  deerly  loved, 
That  what  th'  one  did,  th'  other  proved. 

Then  Cocke  a  doodle  doo 

The  houres  divided  right, 
And  olde  to  whit  to  whoo 

Did  watch  the  winter  night ; 
And  in  the  Springs,  the  Nightingale 
Did  tell  the  woods  a  merry  Tale.  90 


Then  Beetels  could  not  live 

Upon  the  hony  Bees, 
But  they  the  drones  would  drive 

Unto  the  doted  Trees ; 
When  he  that  wrought  not  till  he  sweate, 
Was  held  unworthy  of  his  meate. 


272  FRIAR  BACONS 

Then  were  no  pitfalls  made 

But  in  the  frost  and  snowe, 
Nor  Woodcocks  in  the  glade 

Could  by  the  Springes  goe  ;  100 

And  not  a  Bird  that  bare  a  winge, 
But  that  would  stoope  unto  his  winge. 

Then  Eusset  cloth  and  Frize 

Did  walke  the  world  about, 
And  no  man  would  despise 

The  inside  for  the  out : 
But  he  that  paide  for  what  he  spent, 
Was  welcome  where  so  ere  he  went. 

Then  were  there  no  devises 

To  draw  on  fond  desires,  no 

But  Chapmen  knew  the  prices, 

The  sellers  and  the  buyers  : 
And  simple  Truthe  no  cunning  usde, 
How  simple  Trust  might  be  abusde. 

The  markets  then  were  serv'd 

With  good  sufficient  ware, 
And  cattell  were  not  starv'de, 

When  Mowcher  and  his  Mare 
Would  bring  in  such  a  sacke  of  Eie, 
As  tried  the  Millers  honestie.  120 

Then  John,  and  Joane,  and  Madge, 

Were  call'd  the  merry  Crew, 
That  with  no  drinke  coulde  fadge, 

But  where  the  fat  they  knew : 


PROPHESIE.  273 

And  though  they  knew  who  brew'd  the  Ale, 
Yet  must  it  stand  till  it  were  stale. 

Then  was  good  fellowship 

Almost  in  every  house ; 
She  would  not  hang  the  lip, 

He  would  not  knit  the  browes ;  130 

But  he  would  smirke,  and  she  would  smile, 
That  all  the  house  would  laugh  the  while. 

Then  Ilandkerchers  were  wrought 
With  names  and  true  loves  knots, 

And  not  a  wench  was  taught 
A  false  stitch  in  her  spots : 

When  Eoses  in  the  Gardaines  grew, 

And  not  in  Bibons  on  a  shoe. 

Then  painting  only  serv'de 

For  Paper,  Wood,  and  Cloth :  no 

When  health  was  most  preserv'de 

By  labour,  not  by  sloth. 
When  fewe  that  did  of  Phisike  heare, 
But  they  were  striken  with  a  feare. 

Then  he  that  heard  of  warre, 

Was  in  a  wofull  case ; 
Except  it  were  so  farre, 

He  could  not  feare  the  place : 
When  Peace  and  Plentie  were  so  sweete, 
As  trode  all  Fortunes  under  feete.  150 

The  Taber  and  the  Pipe, 

The  Bagpipe  and  the  Crowde ; 

VOL.  IV.  T 


274  FRIAR  BACONS 

When  Gates  and  Eye  were  ripe, 

Began  to  be  alowde. 
But  till  the  Harvest  all  was  in, 
The  Moris  Daunce  did  not  begin. 

A  Citie  from  a  Towne 

Then  by  his  wall  was  seene ; 
And  none  did  weare  a  Crowne, 

But  either  King  or  Queene :  ieo 

And  ever  upon  Easter  day, 
All  Jack  a  Lents  were  cast  away. 

Then  Cloakes  were  for  the  raine, 

And  Feathers  but  for  beddes : 
Sheepes  Kusset  would  not  staine, 

There  were  no  greenes  nor  reddes  : 
Carnation,  Crimson,  yealow,  blue, 
Plaine  people  no  such  colours  knew. 

The  Horse,  the  Cowe,  the  Hogge, 

Were  kept  for  worke  and  wealth :  170- 

The  Pus-Cat  and  the  Dogge, 
For  safegard  from  the  stealth 

Of  Eats,  and  Mise,  and  Wolfe,  and  Foxe ; 

When  fewe  had  keyes  unto  their  lockes. 

Then  Owles  nor  Night  Eavens  were 

No  tellers  of  ill  happes ; 
When  Faith  had  never  feare 

Of  any  Thunder-clappes ; 
But  looke,  what  weather  ever  came, 
Was  welcome  in  God's  holy  name.  iso 


PEOPHESIE.  275 

Then  Monkies,  Baboones,  Apes, 

And  such  il-favour'd  Creatures, 
Of  such  straunge  fashion'd  shapes, 

Were  hatefull  to  our  natures : 
When  who  heard  tell  but  of  a  Beare,  N 
But  he  could  scarcely  sleepe  for  feare. 

No  Parat,  Pie,  nor  Dawe, 

Was  idely  taught  to  prate ; 
Nor  scarce  a  man  of  Lawe 

Was  knowne  in  all  the  state  ;  190 

While  neighbors  so  like  friends  agreede, 
That  one  supplide  anothers  neede. 

The  shepheard  kept  his  sheepe. 

The  Goat-heard  kept  his  heard, 
And  in  the  Sunne  would  sleepe, 

When  were  no  Vermin  fear'd ; 
For  every  Curre  would  barke  or  bite, 
To  put  the  wicked  Foxe  to  flight. 

And  then  a  good  grey  Frocke, 

A  Kercheffe,  and  a  Raile,  200 

A  faire  white  flaxen  Smocke, 

A  Hose  with  a  good  waile, 
A  good  strong  leatherd  winter  shoe, 
Was  well,  I  wis,  and  better  too. 

Then,  I  wis,  well,  goe  too, 

Were  words  of  no  small  worth ; 
When  folkes  knew  what  to  doo 

To  bring  their  meanings  forth  ; 


276  FRIAR  BACONS 

And  winke,  and  nod,  and  hem,  and  humme, 
Could  bring  my  finger  to  my  thumbe.  210 

No  cutting  of  a  Garde, 

Nor  cogging  of  a  Dye, 
But  it  was  wholy  barde 

All  honest  company ; 
And  faire  square  plaie  with  yea  and  naie, 
Who  lost  the  game  would  quickly  paie. 

No  matches  then  were  set 

For  yonger  brothers  landes, 
Nor  Usurers  could  get 

Mens  goods  into  their  handes :  220 

But  such  as  had  their  wittes  awake, 
Could  smell  a  Knave  before  he  spake. 

And  hardly  in  a  yeere 
A  man  should  meete  a  Thiefe ; 

When  Corne  was  nere  so  deere, 
But  poore  folkes  had  reliefe : 

And  wickednes  was  loath'd  so  much, 

That  no  man  lov'd  the  tickle  tuch. 

Then  love  went  not  by  lookes, 

Wherein  laie  venim  hid :  230 

Nor  words  were  Angle-hookes, 

When  men  knew  what  they  did. 
But  honest  hearts,  and  modest  eies, 
Did  make  the  Lovers  paradise. 

But  now  that  world  is  changde, 
And  time  doth  alter  Creatures, 


PROPHESIE.  277 

Whose  spirits  are  estrang'de 

From  their  owne  proper  natures : 
While  wofull  eyes  may  weepe,  to  see, 
How  all  things  are,  and  what  they  bee.         240 

Now  every  idle  Boye, 

That  sells  his  land  for  Pearles, 
Esteemes  his  wealth  a  toye 

To  give  to  idle  girles : 
While  gracelesse  love,  in  Natures  pride, 
With  sinne  is  never  satisfide. 

Now  friends  do  oft  fall  out, 

But  seelde  fall  in  againe ; 
While  many  goe  aboute 

To  laie  a  wicked  traine :  250 

Where  malice  is  so  in  request, 
That  kindnes  knowes  not  where  to  rest. 

Content  is  now  unknowne 

In  either  King  or  Clowne  : 
A  sight  too  common  showne, 

To  see  a  Mayden  frowne : 
When  she  is  held  a  foolish  Creature, 
That  shewes  to  be  of  gentle  Nature. 

The  Milke-maydes  Paile  is  sowre, 

The  Shepheards  Cloake  uncleane ;  2^0 

Where  Love  hath  not  the  power 

To  finde  what  fancies  meane  : 
While  Faith  doth  so  much  falshood  prove, 
That  many  lye,  which  say  they  love. 


278  FRIAR  BACONS 

Now  observation  findes 

By  all  Experience  Artes, 
How  Machavilian  mindes 

Do  plaie  the  divels  partes ; 
While  love,  (alas  !)  hath  little  grace 
In  worshipping  a  wicked  face.  270 

Now  praise  must  follow  pride, 

And  Flattery  wayt  on  wealth ; 
And  tongues  to  silence  tide, 

Except  it  be  by  stealth. 
While  he  or  she  that  cannot  faine, 
Must  die  a  friend-ships  foole  in  graine. 

The  seasons  of  the  yeere 

The  Shepheards  do  not  know ; 
While  mirth  and  merry  cheere 

To  griefe  and  sorrow  grow ;  280 

While  if  a  couple  kindly  kisse, 
The  third  thinkes  somewhat  is  amisse. 

Now  sheepes-eies  are  so  watcht, 
That  Lambes  can  hardly  sleepe  ; 

For  when  the  Henne  hath  hatcht, 
Ere  well  the  Chicken  peepe, 

The  Buzzard  and  the  Kite  so  pray, 

That  halfe  the  Brood  is  stolne  away. 

No  Butcher  now  can  keepe 

His  flesh  from  blowing  flies ;  290 

And  Maydes  will  lie  and  sleepe, 

That  doe  not  love  to  rise : 


PROPHESIE.  279 

While  every  bedde  so  swarmes  with  fleas, 
I  wonder  how  they  lie  at  ease. 

Now  neither  Wolfe  nor  Foxe, 

But  can  beguile  the  Hound  ; 
Nor  gallant  headed  Oxe 

Will  to  a  yoake  be  bound ; 
Nor  drawing  Tit,  but  skorn'd  who  there, 
Nor  Asse,  that  will  his  burthen  beare.  300 

Wheate,  Barly,  Gates,  and  Hie, 

So  like  are  in  the  blade, 
That  many  a  simple  eye 

May  Soone  a  foole  be  made  : 
While  Curdes,  and  Creame,  and  Ale  and  Spice, 
Will  bring  out  but  a  poore  device. 

Now  Cockes  dare  scarcely  Crow, 

For  feare  the  Foxe  doe  heare ; 
Nor  shriche-Owle,  but  will  show 

That  Winter  time  is  neare :  310 

And  Philomens,  amid  the  spring, 
So  feares  the  worme,  shee  cannot  sing. 

And  now  when  Lovers  meete, 

It  is  a  griefe  to  see 
How  heavily  they  greete, 

And  how  they  disagree :  » 

While  that  the  father's  eies  are  blinde, 
And  that  the  mother  is  unkinde. 

Delaies  to  neere  disdaine, 

Doe  feede  upon  desire ;  320 


FRIAR  BACONS 

And  breath  is  spent  in  vaine, 

Where  hopes  are  nere  the  nigher : 
While  Truth  and  Trust  have  too  much  proved, 
They  hardly  find  wher  to  be  loved. 

Now  humble  Bees  can  live 

Upon  the  hony  Bees, 
That  not  a  Drone  dare  drive, 

Unto  the  doted  trees : 
While  he  that  workes  not  for  his  meate, 
Will  live  upon  another's  sweate.  330 

Now  pitfalls  are  so  made, 

That  small  birdes  cannot  know  them ; 
No  Woodcockes  in  a  Glade, 

But  Netts  can  overthrow  them ; 
And  not  a  paltry  carrion  Kite, 
But  braves  a  Faulcon  in  his  flight. 

Now  velvet,  cloth  of  gold, 

And  silkes  of  highest  price, 
Doth  make  the  good  free-holde 

Chaung  title  with  a  trice ;  340 

While  he  that  spends  and  will  not  pay, 
Is  welcome,  when  he  is  away. 

Now  wordes  of  strange  devises 

Doe  cheate  upon  desires, 
While  cunning  sellers  prices 

Doe  cosen  simple  buiers : 
While  truth  is  all  so  sildome  used, 
That  honest  trust  is  much  abused. 


PRO  PEES  IE.  281 

The  markets  now  are  sarv'de 

With  much  unsavery  ware,  350 

And  cattell  often  starv'de, 

When  that  the  Miller's  Mare 
Can  scarcely  bring  a  sacke  of  Eie, 

That  one  may  be  a  saver  by. 

Now  John,  and  Joane,  and  Madge, 

Can  make  no  merry  Crue, 
The  baily,  with  his  badge, 

So  braves  it  in  his  blue  ! 
None  dare  discharge  a  Carier, 
For  feare  of  maister  officier.  360 

And  now  from  every  house 

Good  fellowship  is  gone, 
And  scarce  a  silly  mouse 

Findes  crummes  to  feede  upon  ; 
While  lowre,  and  poute,  and  chafe,  and  champe, 
Brings  all  the  household  in  a  dampe. 

Now  clockes,  are  for  the  sunne, 

And  feathers  for  the  winde, 
Sheepes  Eusset  to  home  spunne, 

While  a  fantasticke  minde  370 

Must  have  a  colour  strange  and  rare, 
To  make  a  mad  man  stand  and  stare. 

The  Horse,  the  Cowe,  the  Hogge, 

Are  chiefely  kept  for  breed ; 
The  Puscat,  and  the  Dogge, 

To  keepe  the  plough-man's  feede ; 


282  FRIAR  BACONS 

While  not  a  locke  but  hath  a  kay, 
For  feare  the  Cupboord  runne  away. 

Now  Owles  and  night-Kavens  are 

111  fortune's  prophecies  ;  380 

When  faithlesse  spirits  stare, 
If  any  storme  arise : 

And  if  the  weather  be  not  faire, 

Why  fooles  are  almost  in  dispaire. 

Now  Monkies,  Baboones,  Apes, 
Are  taught  to  pranke  and  prance, 

While  many  a  Wizard  gape 
To  see  a  monster  dance  ; 

And  not  a  woman  that  will  feare 

To  see  the  baiting  of  a  Beare.  390 

Now  Parats,  Pies,  and  Dawes, 

Are  finely  taught  to  prate, 
And  worldes  of  men  of  lawe 
Are  needful  in  the  state : 
Where  Neighbours  live  so  unlike  friends, 
That  men  would  judge  them  to  be  fiends. 

And  now  a  Satten  gowne, 

A  petticoate  of  silke, 
A  fine  wrought  bugle  Crowne, 

A  Smocke  as  white  as  milke ;  400 

A  colour'de  hose,  a  pincked  shooe, 
Wrill  scarcely  make  a  Tit  come  too. 

Now  as  God  ludge  my  soule, 
Besides  my  faith,  and  troth, 


PROPHESIE.  283 

On  every  wassell  bowle, 

Is  thought  a  simple  Oth : 
While  stampe,  and  stare,  and  clapping  handes, 
Will  scarce  make  up  a  begger's  bandes. 

Now  Sempsters  few  are  taught 

The  true  sticht  in  their  spots,  «o 

And  names  are  sildome  wrought 

Within  the  true  loves  knots ; 
And  Eibon  Roses  take  such  place, 
That  Garden  Koses  want  their  grace. 

Now  painting  serves  for  faces, 

To  make  the  fowle  seeme  faire, 
And  health  in  many  places 

Must  not  abide  the  Aire : 
And  few  that  have  been  bit  with  fleas, 
But  runne  to  phisicke  for  their  ease.  420 

Now  warre  makes  many  rich, 

That  else  had  bene  but  poore ; 
And  makes  a  souldiour  itch, 

Till  he  have  scratcht  a  Boore  ; 
For  peace  and  plenty  breed  such  pride, 
As  poore  men's  fortunes  cannot  bide. 

The  Taber  and  the  Pipe 

Are  now  out  of  request ; 
And  ere  the  Eie  be  ripe, 

The  bird  will  leave  the  nest :  *30 

And  Moris  dances  doe  begin 
Before  the  harvest  halfe  be  in. 


284  FRIAR  BACONS 

Now  many  a  Townes  mud  wall 

Doth  put  a  Citty  downe, 
And  Mistresse  Finicall 

Doth  weare  a  Bugle  Crowne ; 
And  many  a  Rascall  Mall-content 
Will  make  his  Easter  day  in  Lent. 

Now  cogge  and  foist  that  list, 

Who  will  that  wit  gaine  say  ?  440 

That  learnes  fooles  had-I-wist, 

That  will  and  cannot  play : 
While  faire,  and  square,  and  pitch,  and  pay, 
The  gamestr  calls  fooles  holy-day. 

Now  worldes  of  Matches  set 

For  elder  brothers  landes, 
And  usury  doth  get 

Great  wealth  into  her  hands ; 
While  he  that  will  not  watch  a  knave, 
May  bring  a  begger  to  his  grave.  450 

Now  hardly  in  a  day, 

But  one  shall  meete  a  thiefe ; 
WTiere  wealth  is  hid  away, 

And  poore  have  no  reliefe ; 
And  wickednes  is  usde  so  much, 
As  who  but  loves  the  tickle  tuch. 

Now  love  goes  so  by  lookes, 

Men  know  not  what  they  doo ; 
And  wordes  are  poisned  hookes, 

That  catch,  and  kill  men  too ;  460 


PEOPHESIE.  285 

While  wicked  hartes  and  wanton  eies 
Make  hell,  in  steed  of  paradice. 

Now  surely  thus  it  is, 

It  is  a  wonderfull  change ; 
Where  all  goes  so  amisse, 

Or  else  my  dreame  is  strange, 
That  shew'de  me  such  a  world  of  wo ; 
But  God  forbid  it  should  be  so. 

For  dreames  are  idle  things, 

And  surely  so  is  this  ;  470 

For  true  apparance  brings 

No  proofe  of  such  amisse : 
But  every  thing  in  such  good  course, 
As  God  forbid  it  should  be  worse. 

For  Lovers  must  be  kinde, 

And  Neighbours  must  be  friends ; 

And  when  the  folkes  have  dinde, 
Set  up  the  puddings  ends : 

For  tis  an  ancient  rule  in  truth, 

That  thriftines  is  good  in  youth.  480 

Olde  men  must  have  their  saying, 

And  rich  men  must  have  place ; 
Sutors  must  bide  delaying, 

And  children  must  say  grace ; 
And  thiefes  must  hang,  and  knaves  must  shift, 
And  silly  fooles  must  have  the  lift. 

And  lawe  must  speake,  wit  judge, 
Men  live  untill  th[e]y  die : 


286  FRIAR  BACONS 

And  Snot  must  be  a  snudge, 

And  love  have  leave  to  lie ;  490 

And  wretches  worke,  and  wantons  play, 
And  who  can  holde  that  will  away  ? 

And  wagges  must  sing,  and  dance, 

And  gamsters  plot  for  gaine : 
Who  likes  not  of  his  chance, 

Take  by  to  helpe  the  maine : 
For  he  that  walkes  without  a  head, 
May  quickly  bring  a  foole  to  bed. 

Women  must  have  their  wills, 

Though  men  would  say  them  nay :  soo 

Some  are  such  needfull  ills, 

They  cannot  be  away : 
And  he  that  gives  the  humme  a  hemme, 
Will  sometimes  fall  aboord  with  them. 

The  Horse  must  have  his  hay, 

The  Dogge  must  have  a  bone ; 
The  Ducke  must  have  a  Bay, 

The  Hawke  must  have  a  stone, 
And  Jhon  must  not  be  kept  from  Joane, 
For  Love  can  never  live  alone.  510 

And  therefore  thus  in  briefe, 

Let  peace  endure  no  strife ; 
Let  no  man  offer  griefe 

Unto  his  neighbour's  wife : 
Let  faire  play  passe  through  every  hand, 
And  let  him  fall  that  cannot  stand. 


PROPHESIE.  287 

Let  God  be  serv'd,  obai'd, 

The  King  both  serv'd  and  lov'de ; 

Church  honoured,  duties  paide, 

Mallice  from  mindes  remov'de :  520 

And  it  may  hap  to  come  to  passe, 

To  be  as  well  as  ere  it  was. 

And  blessed  were  the  daies, 

If  so  the  world  did  goe, 
That  wit  a  thousand  waies, 

Might  reasons  comfort  knowe : 
Whil  birds  might  sing,  and  men  might  speak, 
And  malice  might  no  musicke  breake. 

That  eyes  might  looke  their  fill, 

Words  might  be  uncontrold ;  530 

And  art  might  have  the  skill 

To  find  the  stone  for  gold : 
And  Jealous  eyes  might"  all  be  blinde, 
That  overlooke  a  honest  minde. 

That  wealth  should  have  her  grace 

In  liberalitie, 
And  honour  give  a  place 

To  every  qualitie : 

While  panders,  jesters,  fooles,  and  knaves, 
Might  walke  about  like  silly  slaves.  540 

A  word  might  be  a  band, 

Where  needles  were  an  Oth ; 
While  yea  and  nay  might  stand 

In  steed  of  faith  and  troth  ; 


288  FUIAR  BACONS 

And  tuch  and  take,  and  pitch,  and  pay, 
Might  drive  all  cunning  tricks  away. 

A  winke,  a  nod,  a  smile, 

Might  shew  the  judgement  just ; 

Where  Truth  could  not  beguile, 

Her  honest  meaning  Trust :  550 

But  one  in  two,  and  two  in  one, 

Might  make  the  merry  world  alone. 

That  quarrels  might  not  grow 

Of  swaggering,  nor  quaffing, 
But  who  begins  heigh  ho  ! 

Might  set  the  house  a  laughing ; 
When  not  a  thought  of  villany 
Might  come  in  honest  company. 

And  Gossips  might  be  merry, 

And  tattle  when  they  meete,  seo 

And  cheekes  as  red  as  cherry 

Might  shew  the  wine  is  sweete ; 
When  Lovers  are  in  talke  so  sad, 
As  if  they  were  alreadie  had. 

Power  should  be  fearde  for  Grace, 

And  Lawe  obey'd  for  love; 
And  Vertue  take  her  place, 

In  highest  hopes  behove ; 
And  Wisedome  only  honour  God, 
And  so  should  sinne  be  overtrod.  570 

Nought  should  be  scorn'de  but  Folly, 
Nor  in  regard  but  Eeason, 


PROPHESIE.  289 

And  nothing  lov'de  but  holy, 

And  nought  in  hate  but  Treason  ; 
And  nought  but  slaunder  banged, 
And  nought  but  Murther  hanged. 

And  then  the  world  were  well, 

But  when  will  it  be  so  ? 
(Alas  !)  I  cannot  tell, 

And  therefore  let  it  goe ;  sso 

And  as  God  will,  so  let  it  bee, 
It  shall  be  as  it  list  for  mee. 

Let  every  man  mend  one, 

And  I  will  not  be  out ; 
And  John  be  good  to  Joane, 

Or  else  he  is  a  lout, 

And  Peter  weave  what  Parnell  spunne ; 
Good  night,  John  Line,  and  I  have  donne. 


VOL.  IV. 


€&e  King: 
anD  a  poore  iBortfcerne 


THE  King  and  a  poore  Northerne  Man.  Shewing  how  a 
poore  Northumberland  man,  a  tenant  to  the  King,  being 
wronged  by  a  Lawyer  (his  neighbour),  went  to  the  King  him 
self  to  make  knowne  his  grievances.  Full  of  simple  mirth  and 
merry  plaine  jests.  Printed  at  London  by  Tho.  Cotes,  and  are  to 
be  sold  by  Francis  Grove,  dwelling  upon  Snow  hill,  1640.  8vo. 

The  King  and  a  poore  Northerne  Man.  Printed  by  A.  Clark, 
and  are  to  be  sold  by  T.  Passinger  at  the  Three  Bibles  on 
London  Bridge,  1673.  8vo.  black  letter,  with  cuts. 

This  poem  has  been  reprinted  for  the  Percy  Society  from  the 
unique  edition  of  1640.  Of  the  ed.  of  1673,  there  is  a  copy  in 
the  British  Museum,  and  a  second  was  in  Bibl.  Heber.  iv.  1743. 

Stories  and  anecdotes  of  the  men  of  the  north  are  common 
enough  in  our  jest-books.  There  are  two  or  three  in  A  C.  Mery 
Talys.  A  drama  called  Too  Good  to  be  True,  or,  the  Northern 
Man,  is  mentioned  in  Henslowe's  Diary  as  among  those  in  which 
Chettle  was  concerned,  in  conjunction  with  Richard  Hathaway 
and  Wentworth  Smith,  under  date  of  1601.  The  editor  of  the 
tract  for  the  Percy  Society  notices  a  ballad  called,  the  King  and 
Northern  Man,  Printed  by  W.  0[nley],  and  to  be  sold  by  the 
Booksellers  in  Pye  Corner  and  London  Bridge. 

The  strict  claim  of  Martin  Parker  to  the  original  authorship 
of  this  production  may  be  open  to  question ;  perhaps  he  merely 
modernized  what  he  found  already  in  print,  but  too  antique  to 
please  the  delicate  palates  of  the  customers  for  such  articles  in 
his  day,  and  upon  the  strength  of  this  attached  his  initials 
which,  as  will  be  seen,  occur  at  the  conclusion  of  the  tract. 


THE  KING  AND 
A  POORE  NORTHERNE  MAN. 


SHEWING  HOW  A   POORE   NORTHUMBERLAND   MAN, 

A  TENANT  TO  THE  KING,  BEING  WRONGED  BY 

A   LAWYER    (HIS    NEIGHBOUR),   WENT   TO 

THE  KING  HIMSELF  TO  MAKE  KNOWNE 

HIS  GRIEVANCES.    FULL  OF  SIMPLE 

MIRTH    AND   MERRY 

PLAINE   JESTS. 


Printed  at  London  by  Tbo.  Cotes,  and  are  to  be  fold 
by  Francis  Grove,  dwelling  upon  Snow  hi!). 
1640. 


JOME  hearken  to  me  all  around, 

and  I  will  tell  you  a  merry  tale 
Of  a  Northumberland  man  that  held  some 

ground, 
which  was  the  Kings  land  in  a  dale. 

He  was  borne  and  bred  thereupon, 

and  his  father  had  dwelt  there  long  before, 

Who  kept  a  good  house  in  that  country, 
and  stav'd  the  wolfe  from  off  his  doore. 

Now,  for  this  farme  the  good  old  man 

just  twenty  shillings  a  yeare  did  pay  :  10 

At  length  came  cruell  death  with  his  dart, 

and  this  old  farmer  he  soone  did  slay : 

Who  left  behinde  him  an  aude  wife  then, 

that  troubled  was  with  mickle  paine, 
And  with  her  cruches  she  walkt  about, 

for  she  was  likewise  blinde  and  lame. 

When  that  his  corpes  were  laid  in  the  grave 
his  eldest  sonne  possesse  did  the  farme, 

At  the  same  rent  as  the  father  before  : 

he  took  great  paines  and  thought  no  harme.  20 

By  him  there  dwelt  a  Lawyer  false, 

that  with  his  farme  was  not  content, 
But  over  the  poore  man  still  hang'd  his  nose, 

because  he  did  gather  the  King's  rent. 


294  THE  KINO  AND  A 

This  farme  layd  by  the  Lawyer's  land, 
which  this  vild  kerne  had  a  mind  unto : 

The  deele  a  good  conscience  had  he  in  his  bulke, 
that  sought  this  poore  man  for  to  undoe. 

He  told  him  he  his  lease  had  forfite, 

and  that  he  must  there  no  longer  abide  :  30 

The  King  by  such  lownes  hath  mickle  wrong  done, 

and  for  you  the  world  is  broad  and  wide. 

The  poore  man  pray'd  him  for  to  cease, 

and  content  himselfe,  if  he  would  be  willing ; 

And  picke  no  vantage  in  my  lease, 
and  I  will  give  thee  forty  shilling. 

Its  neither  forty  shillings,  no  forty  pound, 
Ise  warrant  thee,  so  can  agree  thee  and  me, 

Unlesse  thou  yeeld  me  thy  farme  so  round, 

and  stand  unto  my  curtesie.  40 

The  poore  man  said  he  might  not  do  sa : 

his  wife  and  his  bearnes  will  make  him  ill  warke. 

If  thou  wilt  with  my  farme  let  me  ga, 

thou  seemes  a  good  fellow,  Ise  give  thee  five  marke. 

The  Lawyer  would  not  be  so  content, 

but  further  in  the  matter  he  means  to  smell. 

The  neighbours  bad  the  poor  man  provide  his  rent, 
and  make  a  submission  to  the  King  him  sell. 

This  poore  man  now  was  in  a  great  stond, 

his  senses  they  were  almost  wood :  50 


POORS  NORTHEENE  MAN.       295 

I  thinke,  if  he  had  not  tooke  grace  in  'a  mind 
that  he  would  never  againe  beene  good. 

His  head  was  troubled  in  such  a  bad  plight, 

as  though  his  eyes  were  apple  gray ; 
And  if  good  learning  he  had  not  tooke 

he  wod  a  cast  himselfe  away. 

A  doughty  heart  he  then  did  take, 

and  of  his  mother  did  blessing  crave, 
Taking  farewell  of  his  wife  and  bearnes  ; 

it  earned  his  heart  them  thus  to  leave.  eo 

Thus  parting  with  the  teares  in  his  eyne, 

his  bob-taild  dog  he  out  did  call : 
Thou  salt  gang  with  me  to  the  King ; 

and  so  he  tooke  his  leave  of  them  all. 

He  had  a  humble  staffe  on  his  backe, 

a  jerkin,  I  wat,  that  was  of  gray, 
With  a  good  blue  bonnet,  he  thought  it  no  lacke ; 

to  the  king  he  is  ganging  as  fast  as  he  may. 

He  had  not  gone  a  mile  out  o  th'  toone, 

but  one  of  his  neighbours  he  did  espy  :  70 

How  far  ist  to  th'  King  ?  for  thither  am  I  boone, 

as  fast  as  ever  I  can  hye. 

I  am  sorry  for  you,  neighbour,  he  sayd, 
'  for  your  simplicity  I  make  mone  : 
Ise  warrant  you,  you  may  ask  for  the  King, 
when  nine  or  ten  dayes  journey  you  have  gone. 


296  THE  KING  AND  A 

Had  I  wist  the  King  wond  so  farre 

Ise  neere  a  sought  him  a  mile  out  o'  th'  toone : 
Hes  either  a  sought  me,  or  wee'd  neere  a  come  nare ; 

at  home  I  had  rather  spent  a  crowne.  so 

Thus  past  he  alang  many  a  weary  mile, 

in  raine,  and  wet,  and  in  foule  mire, 
That  ere  he  came  to  lig  in  his  bed 

his  dog  and  he  full  ill  did  tire. 

Hard  they  did  fare  their  charges  to  save, 
but  alas  hungry  stomackes  outcrie  for  meate, 

And  many  a  sup  of  cold  water  they  drank  e, 
when  in  the  lang  way  they  had  nought  to  eate. 

Full  lile  we  know  his  hard  griefe  of  mind, 

and  how  he  did  long  London  to  ken  ;  9o 

And  yet  he  thought  he  should  finde  it  at  last, 
because  he  met  so  many  men. 

At  length  the  top  of  kirkes  he  spide, 
and  houses  so  thicke  that  he  was  agast : 

I  thinke,  quoth  he,  their  land  is  full  deere, 
for  ther's  nought  that  here  lies  wast. 

But  when  he  came  into  the  city  of  London, 

of  every  man  for  the  King  he  did  call. 
They  told  him  that  him  he  neede  not  feare, 

for  the  King  he  lies  now  at  Whitehall.  100 

For  Whitehall  he  then  made  inquire, 
but  as  he  passed  strange  geere  he  saw : 


POORE  NORTHERNS  MAN.      297 

The  bulkes  with  such  gue  gawes  were  dressed, 
that  his  mind  at  one  side  it  did  draw. 

Gud  God,  unto  himselfe  he  did  say, 

what  a  deele  a  place  I  am  come  unto  ! 
Had  a  man,  I  thinke,  a  thousrie  pounds  in's  purse, 

himselfe  he  might  quickly  here  undoe. 

At  night  then  a  lodging  him  a  got, 

and  for  his  supper  he  then  did  pay :  no 

He  told  the  host  then  heed  goe  lig  in  his  hed, 

who  straight  took  a  candle  and  shewd  him  the  way. 

Then  with  spying  of  farlies  in  the  citie, 
because  he  had  never  been  there  beforne, 

He  lee  so  long  a  bed  the  next  day, 

the  Court  was  remov'd  to  Windsor  that  morne. 

You  ha  laine  too  long  then,  then  said  his  host, 
you  ha  laine  too  long  by  a  great  while : 

The  king  is  now  to  Windsor  gone  ; 

he's  further  to  seeke  by  twenty  mile.  120 

I  thinke  I  was  corst,  then  said  the  poore  man ; 

if  I  had  been  wise  I  might  ha  consider. 
Belike  the  King  of  me  has  gotten  some  weet : 

he  had  neere  gone  away  had  not  I  come  hither. 

He  fled  not  for  you,  said  the  hoste ; 

but  hie  you  to  Windsor  as  fast  as  you  may : 
Be  sure  it  will  requite  your  cost, 

for  looke,  what's  past  the  king  will  pay. 


298  THE  KING  AND  A 

But  when  he  came  at  Windsor  Castle, 

with  his  bumble  staff  upon  his  backe,  iso 

Although  the  gates  wide  open  stood 

he  layd  on  them  till  he  made  um  cracke. 

Why,  stay  !  pray  friend,  art  mad  ?  quoth  the  Porter  ; 

what  makes  thee  keepe  this  stirre  to  day  ? 
Why,  I  am  a  tenant  of  the  Kings, 

and  have  a  message  to  him  to  say.  • 

The  King  has  men  enough,  said  the  Porter, 

your  message  well  that  they  can  say. 
Why,  there's  neere  a  knave  the  King  doth  keepe 

shall  ken  my  secret  mind  to  day.  MO 

I  were  told,  ere  I  came  from  home, 

ere  I  got  hither  it  would  be  dear  bought : 

Let  me  in,  Ise  give  thee  a  good  single  penny. 

I  see  thou  wilt  ha  small,  ere  thou't  doe  for  nought. 

Gramercy,  said  the  Porter  then ; 

thy  reward's  so  great  I  cannot  say  nay. 
Yonder's  a  Nobleman  within  the  court, 

He  first  heare  what  he  will  say. 

When  the  Porter  came  to  the  Nobleman, 

he  sayd  he  would  shew  him  a  pretty  sport :  150 

There's  sike  a  clowne  come  to  the  gate, 
as  came  not  this  seven  yeares  to  the  Court. 

He  cals  all  knaves  the  King  doth  keepe ; 
he  raps  at  the  gates  and  makes  great  din ; 


POO  RE  NORTHERNS  MAN.     299 

He's  passing  liberal!  of  reward  ; 

heed  give  a  good  single  penny  to  be  let  in. 

Let  him  in,  sayd  the  Nobleman. 

Come  in,  fellow,  the  Porter  gan  say : 
If  thou  come  within  thy  selfe,  he  sayde, 

thy  staffe  behind  the  gate  must  stay.  ico 

And  tfeis  cuckolds  curre  must  lig  behind : 
what  a  deele,  what  a  cut  hast  got  with  thee  ! 

The  King  will  take  him  up  for  his  owne  sel, 
Ise  warrant,  when  as  he  him  doth  see. 

Beshrew  thy  limbes,  then  said  the  poore  man  ; 

then  mayst  thou  count  me  foole,  or  worse. 
I  wat  not  what  banckrout  lies  by  the  King ; 

for  want  of  money  he  may  picke  my  purse. 

That's  to  be  fear'd,  the  Porter  said ; 

Ise  wish  you  goe  in  well  arm'd ;  170 

For  the  King  he  hath  got  mickle  company, 

and  among  them  all,  you  may  soone  be  harm'd. 

Let  him  in  with  his  staffe  and  his  dog,  said  the  Lord, 
and  with  that  he  gave  a  nod  with's  head,  and  beck 
with's  knee. 

If  you  be  Sir  King,  then  said  the  poore  man, 
as  I  can  very  well  thinke  you  be ; 

For  I  was  told  ere  I  came  from  home, 

you're  the  goodliest  man  ere  I  saw  beforne ; 


300  THE  KING  AND  A 

With  so  many  jingle  jangles  about  ones  necke, 

as  is  about  yours,  I  never  saw  none.  iso 

I  am  not  the  King,  said  the  Nobleman, 

fellow,  although  I  have  a  proud  coat. 
If  you  be  not  the  King,  helpe  me  to  the  speech  of  him, 

you  seeme  a  good  fellow,  Ise  gi  you  a  groat. 

Gramercy,  said  the  Nobleman ; 

the  rewards  so  great,  I  cannot  say  nay. 
He  go  know  the  Kings  pleasure,  if  I  can ; 

till  I  come  againe  be  sure  thou  stay. 

Heres  sike  a  staying,  then  said  the  poore  man ; 

belike  the  Kings  better  than  any  in  our  countrey. 
I  might  be  gone  to  th'  farthest  nuke  i'th'  house,       191 

neither  lad  nor  lowne  to  trouble  me. 

When  the  Nobleman  came  to  the  King, 

he  said  he  would  shew  his  Grace  good  sport : 

Heres  such  a  clowne  come  to  the  gate, 

as  came  not  this  seven  yeares  to  the  Court. 

He  cals  all  knaves  your  Highnesse  keepes, 
and  more  than  that,  he  termes  them  worse. 

Heele  not  come  in  without  his  staffe  and  his  dogge, 
for  feare  some  bankrout  will  picke  his  purse.         200 

Let  him  in  with  his  staffe  and  his  dog,  said  our  King, 

that  of  his  sport  we  may  see  some. 
Weele  see  how  heele  handle  everything, 

as  soone  as  the  match  of  bowles  is  done. 


POOEE  NORTHERNS  MAN.      301 

The  Nobleman  led  him  through  many  a  roome, 

and  through  many  a  gallery  gay. 
What  a  deele  doth  the  king  with  so  many  toome  houses, 

that  he  gets  um  not  fild  with  come  and  hay  ? 

What  gares  these  babies  and  babies  all  ? 

some  ill  have  they  done  that  they  hang  by  the 

walls  ?  210 

And  staring  aloft  at  the  golden  roofe  toppe, 

at  a  step  he  did  stumble,  and  downe  he  falles. 

Stand  up,  good  fellow,  the  Nobleman  sayd ; 

what,  art  thou  drunke  or  blind,  I  trow  ? 
Ise  neither  am  blinde  nor  drunke,  he  sed, 

although,  in  my  sowle,  you  oft  are  so. 

It  is  a  disease,  said  the  Lord  againe, 

that  many  a  good  man  is  troubled  withall. 

Quoth  the  Countryman  then,  yet  I  made  your  proud 

stones 
to  kisse  my  backeside,  though  they  gave  me  a  fall. 

At  last  they  spide  the  King  in  an  ally,  221 

yet  from  his  game  he  did  not  start. 
The  day  was  so  hot,  he  cast  off  his  doublet ; 

he  had  nothing  from  the  wast  up  but  his  shirt. 

Loe,  yonder's  the  King,  said  the  Noble  man : 

behold,  fellow ;  loe,  where  he  goes. 
Beelevet  hee's  some  unthrift,  sayes  the  poore  man, 

that  has  lost  his  money  and  pawnd  his  cloathes. 


302  THE  KING  AND  A 

How  hapt  he  hath  gat  neere  a  coate  to  his  hacke  ? 

this  bowling  I  like  not ;  it  hath  him  undone.         230 
Ise  warrant  that  fellow  in  those  gay  cloathes, 

he  hath  his  cojne  and  his  doublet  won. 

But  when  he  came  before  the  King, 

the  Nobleman  did  his  curtesie  : 
The  poore  man  followed  after  him, 

and  gave  a  nod  with  his  head  and  a  becke  with  his 
knee. 

If  you  be  Sir  King,  then  said  the  poore  man, 

as  I  can  hardly  thinke  you  be ; 
Here  is  a  gude  fellow  that  brought  me  hither, 

is  liker  to  be  the  King  than  ye.  240 

I  am  the  King,  his  Grace  now  sayd ; 

Fellow,  let  me  thy  cause  understand. 
If  you  be  Sir  King,  Ime  a  tennant  of  yours, 

that  was  borne  and  up  brought  within  your  owne 
lande. 

There  dwels  a  Lawyer  hard  by  me, 

and  a  fault  in  my  lease  he  sayes  he  hath  found ; 
And  all  was  for  felling  five  poor  ashes, 

to  build  a  house  upon  my  owne  ground. 

Hast  thou  a  lease  here  ?  said  the  King, 

or  canst  thou  shew  to  me  the  deed  ?  250 

He  put  it  into  the  Kings  owne  hand, 

and  said,  Sir,  tis  here,  if  that  you  can  read. 


POO  RE  NORTHERNS  MAN.      303 

Why,  what  if  I  cannot  ?  said  our  King ; 

that  which  I  cannot,  another  may. 
I  have  a  boy  of  mine  owne,  not  seven  yeares  old, 

a  will  read  you  as  swift  as  yould  run  i'th'  highway. 

Lets  see  thy  lease,  then  said  our  King; 

then  from  his  blacke  boxe  he  puld  it  out. 
He  gave  it  into  the  Kings  owne  hand, 

with  foure  or  five  knots  ty'd  fast  in  a  clout.          260 

Wast  neere  unloose  these  knots  ?  said  the  King ; 

he  gave  it  to  one  that  behind  him  did  stay, 
It  is  a  proud  horse,  then  said  the  poore  man, 

will  not  carries  owne  provinder  along  the  highway. 

Pay  me  forty  shillings,  as  Ise  pay  you, 
I  will  not  thinke  much  to  unloose  a  knot : 

I  would  I  were  so  occupied  every  day. 
Ide  unloose  a  score  on  um  for  a  groat. 

When  the  King  had  gotten  these  letters  to  read, 
and  found  the  truth  was  very  so :  270 

I  warrant  thee,  thou  hast  not  forfeit  thy  lease, 
if  that  thou  hadst  feld  five  ashes  moe. 

I,  every  one  can  warrant  me, 

but  all  your  warrants  are  not  worth  a  flea ; 
For  he  that  troubles  me  and  will  not  let  me  goe, 

neither  cares  for  warrant  of  you  nor  me. 

The  Lawyer  he  is  sike  a  crafty  elfe : 

a  will  make  a  foole  of  twenty  such  as  me ; 


304  THE  KING  AND  A 

And  if  that  I  said  gang  hang  my  sel, 

ISB  trow,  he  and  I  sud  neere  agree.  280 

For  he's  too  wise  for  all  our  towne, 

and  yet  we  ha  got  crafty  knaves  beside. 

Heele  undoe  me  and  my  wife  and  bearnes  : 
alas,  that  ever  I  saw  this  tide ! 

Thoust  have  an  injunction,  said  our  King ; 

from  troubling  of  thee  he  will  cease : 
Heele  either  shew  thee  a  good  cause  why, 

or  else  heele  let  thee  live  in  peace. 

What's  that  injunction  ?  said  the  poore  man, 

good  Sir,  to  me  I  pray  you  say.  290 

Why,  it  is  a  letter  He  cause  to  be  written : 

but  art  thou  as  simple  as  thou  she  west  for  to  day  ? 

Why,  ift  be  a  letter,  Ime  neere  the  better : 

keep't  to  yourselfe  and  trouble  not  me. 
I  could  a  had  a  letter  cheaper  written  at  home, 
•  and  neere  a  come  out  of  mine  owne  countrey. 

Thoust  have  an  attachment,  said  our  King : 

charge  all  thou  seest  to  take  thy  part. 
Till  he  pay  thee  an  hundred  pound, 

be  sure  thou  never  let  him  start.  300 

A,  wais  me  !  the  poore  man  saide  then ; 

you  ken  no  whit  what  you  now  do  say. 
A  won  undoe  me  a  thousand  times, 

ere  he  such  a  mickle  of  money  will  pay. 


POOEE  NOETHERNE  MAN.       305 

And  more  than  this,  there's  no  man  at  all 
that  dares  anongst  him  for  to  lift  a  hand ; 

For  he  has  got  so  much  guile  in  his  budget, 
that  he  will  make  all  forfeit  their  land. 

If  any  seeme  against  thee  to  stand, 

be  sure  thou  come  hither  straight  way.  310 

A,  marry,  is  that  all  Ise  get  for  my  labour  ? 

then  I  may  come  trotting  every  day. 

Thou  art  hard  a  beleefe,  then  said  our  King : 
to  please  him  with  letters  he  was  right  willing. 

I  see  you  have  taken  great  paines  in  writing, 
with  all  my  heart  He  give  you  a  shilling. 

He  have  none  of  thy  shiUing,  said  our  King ; 

man,  with  thy  money  God  give  thee  win. 
He  threw  it  into  the  Kings  bosome ; 

the  money  lay  cold  next  to  his  skin.  320 

Beshrew  thy  heart,  then  said  our  King ; 

thou  art  a  carle  something  too  bold : 
Dost  thou  not  see  I  am  hot  with  bowling  ? 

the  money  next  to  my  skin  lies  cold. 

I  neere  wist  that  before,  said  the  poore  man, 

before  sike  time  as  I  came  hither. 
If  the  Lawyers  in  our  country  thought  twas  cold, 

they  would  not  heape  up  so  much  together. 

The  King  call'd  up  his  Treasurer, 

and  bad  him  fetch  him  twenty  pound.  330 

VOL.  IV.  X 


306  THE   KING  AND  A 

If  ever  thy  errant  lye  here  away, 
He  beare  thy  charges  up  and  downe. 

When  the  poore  man  saw  the  gold  tendred, 

for  to  receive  it  he  was  willing. 
If  I  had  thought  the  King  had  so  mickle  gold, 

beshrew  my  heart,  Ide  a  kept  my  shilling. 

Now,  farewell,  good  fellow,  quoth  the  King : 
see  that  my  command  you  well  doe  keepe  ; 

And  when  that  the  Lawyer  you  have  in  your  hands, 
looke  that  he  doe  pay  you  before  he  doe  sleepe.    340 

Gods  benison  light  on  your  soule,  then  he  sayd, 
and  send  you  and  yours  where  ever  you  gang : 

If  that  I  doe  ever  meete  with  your  fewd  foes, 

Ise  sweare  by  this  staffe  that  their  hide  I  won  bang. 

And  farewell,  brave  lads  now,  unto  you  all : 
I  wod  all  may  win  and  neane  of  you  leese. 

Haude ;  take  this  same  tester  among  you  awe : 
I  ken  that  you  Courtiers  doe  all  looke  for  fees. 

Thus  with  a  low  courtsie  of  them  he  tooke  leave, 
thinking  from  the  Court  to  take  his  way ;  350 

But  some  of  the  gentlemen  then  of  the  Kings 
would  needs  invite  him  at  dinner  to  stay. 

A  little  entreaty  did  soone  serve  his  turne : 
a  thought  himsel  as  good  a  man  as  them  all. 

But  where  (quoth  he)  sail  I  have  this  same  feast  ? 
then  straightway  they  ushered  him  into  the  hall. 


POO  RE  NORTHERNS  MAN.       307 

Such  store  of  cheare  on  the  board  there  was  plast, 
that  made  the  countryman  much  for  to  muse. 

Quoth  he,  I  doe  think  you  are  all  craftie  knaves, 
that  such  a  service  you  will  not  refuse.  seo 

I  nere  saw  such  a  flipper  de  flapper  before ; 

here's  keele  I  doe  think  is  made  of  a  whetstone. 
Heer's  dousets  and  flappjacks,  and  I  ken  not  what ; 

I  thinke,  in  the  worlde  such  feasts  there  is  none. 

When  he  had  well  din'd  and  had  filled  his  panch, 
then  to  the  winecellar  they  had  him  straight  way, 

Where  they  with  brave  claret  and  brave  old  Canary, 
they  with  a  foxe  tale  him  soundly  did  pay. 

So  hard  they  did  ply  him  with  these  strong  wines, 
that  he  did  wrong  the  long  seames  of  his  hose,  370 

That  two  men  were  faine  to  leade  him  up  stayres ; 
so,  making  indentures,  away  then  he  goes. 

The  poore  man  got  home  next  Sunday : 

the  Lawyer  soone  did  him  espy. 
Oh,  Sir,  you  have  been  a  stranger  long, 

I  thinke  from  me  you  have  kept  you  by. 

It  was  for  ypu  indeed,  said  the  poore  man, 

the  matter  to  the  King  as  I  have  tell. 
I  did  as  neighbours  put  it  in  my  head, 

and  made  a  submission  to  the  King  my  sel.  sso 

What  a  deel  didst  thou  with  the  King  ?  said  the  Lawyer 
could  not  neighbours  and  friends  agree  thee  and  me  ? 


308  THE  KINO  AND  A 

The  deel  a  neighbour  or  friend  that  I  had, 
that  would  a  bin  sike  a  daies  man  as  he. 

He  has  gin  me  a  letter,  but  I  know  not  what  they  cal't ; 

but  if  the  King's  words  be  frue  to  me, 
When  you  have  read  and  perused  it  over, 

I  hope  you  will  leave,  and  let  me  be. 

He  has  gin  me  another,  but  I  know  not  what  'tis ; 

but  I  charge  you  all  to  hold  him  fast.  390 

Pray  you  that  are  learned  this  letter  reade  ; 

which  presently  made  them  all  agast. 

Then  did  they  reade  this  letter  plaine, 

the  Lawyer  must  pay  him  a  hundred  pound. 

You  see  the  King's  letter,  the  poore  man  did  say, 
and  unto  a  post  he  sal  straight  be  bound. 

Then  unto  a  post  they  tide  him  fast, 
and  all  men  did  rate  him  in  cruell  sort ; 

The  lads,  and  the  lasses,  and  all  the  towne 

at  him  had  great  glee,  pastime  and  sport.  400 

He  pay  it,  He  pay  it,  the  Lawyer  said : 
the  attachment,  I  say,  it  is  good  and  faire ; 

You  must  needes  something  credit  me, 
till  I  goe  home  and  fetch  some  meare. 

Credit !  nay,  thats  it  the  King  forbad : 
he  bad,  if  I  got  thee,  I  should  thee  stay. 

The  Lawyer  payd  him  an  hundred  pound 
in  ready  money,  ere  he  went  away. 


POOEE  NORTHERNS  MAN.       309 

Would  every  Lawyer  were  served  thus  ! 

from  troubling  poore  men  they  would  cease :         410 
They'd  either  show  them  a  good  cause  why, 

or  else  they'd  let  them  live  in  peace. 

And  thus  I  end  my  merry  tale, 

which  shewes  the  plain  mans  simplenesse, 

And  the  Kings  great  mercy  in  righting  his  wrongs, 
And  the  Lawyers  fraud  and  wickednesse. 


M.  P. 


C&e  TBirtft,  Life,  Deatfc, 
anD  <£pitap&  of  3lack 
Gentleman; 


THE  Birth,  Life,  Death,  Wil,  and  Epitaph  of  Jack  Puflfe 
Gentleman.     London,  Printed  for  T.  P.  1642,  4to,  four 
leaves,  with  a  woodcut  of  Jack  Puflfe  on  the  title-page. 

This  satirical  tract,  which  has  been  transcribed  by  the  editor 
from  a  copy  among  the  King's  pamphlets  in  the  British  Mu 
seum,  deserves  attention  on  account  of  its  peculiar  character. 
Like  The  Treatyse  of  a  Galaunt,  it  is  an  attempt  to  throw 
ridicule  on  the  fops  of  the  time.  Jack  Puffe  is  a  type  of  what 
was  by  no  means  a  small  class  during  the  reign  of  Charles  I. 


THE 
BIRTH,  LIFE,  DEATH,  WIL, 


AND 


EPITAPH, 


OF 


IACK    PVFFE 

GENTLEMAN. 


LONDON,  Printed  for  T.P.    1642. 


Cfie  TBittf),  Hife,  Deatfc,  mill,  ana 

of  facfce  $uffe  (gentleman. 


|  HE  people  shun  the  wall,  loe  here  he  comes, 
With  fierce  aspect,  the  vulgar  before  runs, 
To  see  his  stradling  gate,  his  hat  advanc't, 
His  downcast  eye[s]  upon  his  boots  are 
glanct  ; 

Who  huggs  himselfe  he's  view'd  so  strangely  fine  ; 
But  one  cryes  :  there's  a  changeling  of  the  time, 
A.  mooncalfe,  that  doth  change  so  of  his  shape, 
In  cloaths,  as  doth  the  Moone  her  bulke  abate. 
Stay,  cries  a  second,  you  have  fed  enough 
All  this  same  creature  that  you  see  's  a  puffe,  10 

A  blast,  a  vapour,  that  only  a  yeare 
Can  make  Invisible  for  to  appeare  : 
His  birth  did  make  his  mothers  mountaine  shake, 
While  all  the  women  did  stand  by  and  quake, 
As  did  the  people,  in  old  jEsops  time, 
At  the  shockt  mount,  whereforth  a  Mouse  did  clime. 
So  did  this  creature,  this  same  peece  of  stuffe, 
Appeare,  but  forth  at  last  came  out  a  puffe, 


316     THE  BIRTH,  LIFE,  AND  DEATH 

But  now  grown  up,  as  innocently  good ; 

As  he  is  ignorant,  so  long  he  stood  20 

From  ill :  but  now  he  is  to  London  come, 

For  to  see  fashions,  for  fashion  he  's  undone, 

And  must  be  ill ;  for  if  he  be  not,  then 

He  is  not  so  as  other  Gentlemen. 

And  to  become  a  gradiate  of  the  time, 

He  learnes  the  fashions  for  to  make  him  fine : 

Then  next  to  scoffe  and  flout  a  Citizen, 

Terming  them  Koundheads,  for  that  they  begin 

To  aske  their  debts :  but,  stay,  let  me  not  erre 

In  blaming  him  who  loves  his  Creditor :  so 

One  that  doth  meane  to  pay,  but,  alas,  he 

Thinkes  it  belongs  not  to  Gentility : 

For  'tis  his  Glory,  if  he  thus  can  speake, 

I  in  one  yeare  ten  Taylors  did  breake. 

And  now  grown  impudent,  his1  next  degree 

Is  to  despise  all  manners  that  here  be ; 

For  'tis  the  Frenchman  doth  him2  only  please, 

Who  buyes  their  formes,  they  give  him  their  disease  ; 

So  that  the  vapour  is  all  frenchified, 

With  out-stucke  bonim,  streight  breech,  and  spit  at  side : 

More  foole  then  feather,  lesse  wit  then  haire, 

Though  there  is  one  thing  that  in  him  is  rare ;  41 

A  true  decorum  each  in  him  doth  find, 

A  simple  carriage  to  a  foolish  mind. 

No  puritane,  I  vow  I  thinke  he's  none : 

For  what  he  is  he  glories  to  make  knowne. 

He  will  not  minde  his  oathes,  or  sticke  to  swere, 

1  Old  ed.  has  him.  '*  Old  ed.  has  his. 


OF  JACK  PUFFE,  GENTLEMAN.     317 

God  dame  him  !  doth  he  man  or  Divell  feare. 

Nor  cares  he  for  his  credit  unto  men, 

If  that  the  person  he  a  Citizen ;  so 

But  here  he  playes  the  Pope,  that  doth  not1  sticke 

To  breake2  all  faith  with  an  Hereticke  : 

He  with  a  Citizen.     What !  shall  I  pay 

My  money  to  a  Roundhead  ?  let  him  stay ; 

He  see  the  rogue  first  damd.     My  w shall  have 

A  gown  ;  my  mony  is  not  for  a  slave. 

Now  sweld  with  debt,  our  Puife  to  France  is  blowne : 

England  unworthy  is  of  such  a  one. 

A  land  that  borrowes  all  their  wit  from  France, 

Who  can't,  like  them  on  anticke  forme  advance.        eo 

They  only,  by  the  vertue  of  the  shire, 

Can  make  a  Country  puffe  so  wise  appeare, 

That  when  he  's  caist  in  a  new  sute  of  cloathes, 

No  Councellor  carries  so  high  his  nose ; 

But  nere  before  his  mothers  curds  and  creame 

Could  adde  to  make  him  thus  so  wisely  seeme. 

Ariv'd  in  France,  he  doth  not  long  remaine  : 

Another  puffe  soone  puffes  him  backe  again ; 

but  all  be-frenchifide,  he  vowes  the  nation 

From  all  the  world  to  excell  in  fashion.  70 

His  Countries  vile,  they  clownes  that  in  it  dwell, 

But  France  in  cloaths  and  complement  excell. 

Shrowded  in  a  strange  garbe  he  walkes  the  streete, 

At  last  his  Creditor  doth  chance  to  meet, 

Who  hardly  now  can  know  him  by  his  feature, 

And  is  amaz'd  who  should  be  this  creature  ; 

1  Old  ed.  has  no-  2  Old  ed.  has  brearke. 


318     THE  BIRTH,  LIFE,  AND  DEATH 

Vnto  himselfe  then1  speak es :  is  this  not  him, 

Whom  that  a  yeare  ago  I  ware  did  bring  ? 

Sure,  'tis  the  same,  or  whosoere  he  be, 

lie  venture  to  arest  his  bravery.  so 

Puffe,  then  arested,  takes  his  next  degree 

Within  the  Counters  Vniversity. 

A  staid  man  now  he  is :  for  he  is  none 

Of  those  that  doth  not  keep  themselves  at  home, 

But  here  he  doth  not  rest  himselfe  so  long, 

But  all  his  cloaths  and  meanes  is  spent  and  gone  ; 

That  like  some  ancient  escuchion  he  doth  seeme 

All  tattered,  in  shew  of  no  esteeme, 

Save  that  he  's  honoured  of  som,  and  for 

He  beares  the  coate  of  his  brave  ancestor :  90 

Who  was  a  man  perhaps  of  worth  and  Spirit, 

Whose  son  doth  but  his  meanes,  not  mind  inherit. 

But  Puffe  not  long  within  the  Counter  lies 

But  that  with  melancholy  streight  he  dyes. 

And  2  being  ript,  within  was  quickly  found 

Bills,  bonds,  and  notes  of  debt,  that  all  lay  round 

His  heart,  that  all  men  present  did  suppose 

The  weight  of  these  thus  soone  his  eyes  did  close. 

His  will  he  left,  but  'las,  twas  his  last  will : 

Had  't  been  his  first,  his  wealth  he  had  kept  still ;    100 

That  all,  as  he  did  now,  should  hate  a  w , 

For  they  and  wine  did  make  him  dye  thus  poore : 
Next,  that  no  gallant  should  not  ought  suppose, 
That  Prayers  and  glory  doth  consist  in  cloathes, 


Old  ed.  has  them.  2  Old  ed.  has  For. 


OF  JACK  PUFFE,  GENTLEMAN.      319 

Or  for  to  court  a  wench  with  words  compiled ; 

Such  ever  fame  hath  from  her  court  exil'd. 

But  that  they  rather  should  enrich  their  mind 

With  armes  and  arts ;  'tis  those  that  fame  doth  find. 

Next  in  his  will  he  Legacies  did  give  ; 

First,  all  his  vices  with  our  blades  to  live,  110 

And  for  his  French  disease  he  did  bequeath 

To  all  those  blades  that  cannot  women  leave ; 

Next  that  the  Prentices  should  have  his  cloaths, 

To  make  shooclouts  for  the  shooes  of  those, 

Their  masters,  which  before  he  had  abus'd 

With  name  of  Roundheads,  &  their  debts  refus'd. 

As  for  his  soule,  I  thinke  it  was  forgot 

In  's  life ;  for  here  in  's  will  we  find  it  not. 

He  never  thought  of  it,  sure,  to  bequeath ; 

He  ever  that  did  to  Gods  mercy  leave.  120 


His  Epitaph. 

Here  lyes  lack  Puffe,  wrapt  up  in  his  skin, 

For  want  of  a  shirt  he  lyeth  thus  thin, 

Who,  like  cut  grasse,  did  live  but  a  day : 

The  sunshine  of  beauty  soone  burnt  him  to  hay. 

His  bladder  of  life  by  death  being  prick't, 

The  bladder  shrinkes  up ;  Puffe  out  soone  then  skipt : 

The  great  misse  of  winde  might  soone  cause  his  death, 

For  how  can  a  puffe  be  ought  without  breath  ? 


320    LIFE  &  DEATH  OF  JACK  PUFFE. 

But  where  he  is  gone,  I  hardly  can  tell, 

Vnlesse  he  doth  with  Boreas  dwell,  ia 

That,  as  in  his  life,  so  after  his  death, 

He  might  keepe  a  storming  still  here  upon  earth. 


FINIS. 


Cratoellet; 

or, 

Unfortunate  OBelcfrman. 

r"pHE  Welch  Traveller ;  or,  the  Unfortunate  Welchman. 

"  If  any  Gentleman  do  want  a  Man, 
As  I  doubt  not  but  some  do  now  and  than, 
1  have  a  Welchman,  though  but  meanly  clad, 
Will  make  him  merry,  be  he  nere  so  sad : 
If  that  you  read,  read  it  quite  ore  I  pray, 
And  you'l  not  think  your  penny  cast  away." 
[Beneath  these  lines  there  is  a  rude  woodcut.] 
By  Humphrey  Crouch.     London,  Printed  for  William  Whit- 
wood  at  the  sign  of  the  Bell  in  Duck-lane  near  Smithfield, 
1671,1  12mo,  black  letter.     12  leaves. 

It  has  been  frequently  reprinted  as  a  chap-book. 
In  1860,  Mr.  Halliwell  caused  thirty  copies  to  be  reprinted 
from  the  ed.  of  1671.     But  the  present  text  is  formed  from  an 
exact  collation  of  the  original  tract. 

John  Crouch  is  a  well-known  name  in  connection  with  the 
period  of  the  ephemeral  poetry  of  the  period  of  the  Protectorate 

1  In  a  bookseller's  catalogue  for  1860  a  copy  of  the  Welch 
Traveller,  1670,  )2mo,  was  marked  at  10s.  6d.  But  on  exam 
ination  it  turned  out  to  be  the  ed.  of  1671,  and  the  very  copy 
which  sold  at  Utterson's  sale  for  <£'3  18s. 

VOL.  IV.  Y 


322         THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

and  Restoration ;  but  Humphrey  Crouch  is,  we  believe,  a  new 
candidate  for  the  honours  of  Parnassus ;  he  is  overlooked  by 
Lowndes;  nor  is  his  name  attached  to  the  present  poem  in 
some  of  the  subsequent  impressions.  It  is  not  a  very  rash  infer 
ence,  that  John  and  Humphrey  Crouch  were  related  to  each 
other ;  perhaps  they  were  brothers. 

The  Welch  Tvaveller  is  one  of  a  series  of  satirical  pamphlets, 
in  verse  and  prose,  which  were  directed  against  the  Welch 
during  the  seventeenth  century.  Several  of  these  forgotten 
lucubrations  are  preserved  among  the  King's  Pamphlets  in  the 
British  Museum;  but  they  are  known  to  few  bibliographers, 
from  the  fact  that  they  are  not  to  be  found,  for  the  most  part,  in 
Lowndes  and  other  works  of  a  similar  character. 

The  following  narrative,  which,  as  we  know  from  the  title- 
page,  was  originally  published  as  a  penny  history,  may  possibly 
represent,  to  some  extent,  the  personal  adventures  of  the  author 
in  the  Principality.  Crouch,  who  evidently  imagined  that  he 
was  providing  for  his  readers  a  feast  of  humour  at  the  low  price 
of  a  penny,  is  nothing  but  a  dull  and  coarse  scribbler ;  but  like 
many  other  poetasters,  he  has  painted  with  tolerable  fidelity  the 
manners  of  the  Welsh  as  they  were  in  the  time  of  Charles  II ; 
and  as  illustrations  of  this  kind  are  not,  as  regards  the  Cambro- 
Britons,  particularly  plentiful,  the  reader  may  be  disposed  to 
tolerate,  for  the  sake  of  its  allusions  and  descriptions,  the 
strange  mixture  of  balderdash  and  ribaldry,  of  which  the  tract 
consists.  It  is,  after  all,  to  be  prized  as  an  unique  relic. 

It  may  be  observed  that  Crouch  has  entirely  missed  the 
point  of  the  Cambrian  hur,  perhaps  from  an  ignorance  of  the 
true  orthography  of  that  grammatical  formula. 

There  is  one  circumstance  which  discountenances  the  notion 
that  the  writer  here  recounts  mischances  which  occurred  to 
himself,  and  it  is  that,  about  the  same  date,  a  second  publication 
appeared,  entitled,  "  The  distressed  Welshman  born  in  Trinity 
Lane,  with  a  Relation  of  his  unfortunate  Travels."  It  is  as 
likely  as  not  that  the  latter  and  the  "Welch  Traveller"  of 
Crouch  may  have  been  one  and  the  same  person— some  ill- 
starred  native  of  the  Principality,  doubtless,  who  had  come  up 
to  London  to  seek  his  fortune,  and  who  circumstantially  supplied 
one  or  two  needy  pamphleteers  with  an  opportunity  of  earning 
a  few  shillings  at  his  expense. 


THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER.         323 

The  original  tract  partakes  of  the  typographical  imperfec 
tions  which  characterize  almost  all  the  printed  English  litera 
ture  of  the  17th  century,  and  which  may  of  course  be  found 
more  than  usually  abundant  in  a  penny  chap-book. 

There  are  many  satirical  effusions  against  the  Welsh  to  be 
found  in  the  numerous  Drolleries  printed  during  the  17th  cen 
tury.  The  following  tracts  may  be  enumerated  in  addition : — 

1.  The  Welchman's  Protestation,  concerning  the  Corruptions 
of  these  Times,  with  her  last  Will  and  Testament  and  her  Song. 

1641,  4to. 

2.  The  Welchmen's  Ivbilee  to  the  Honovr  of  St.  David.     In 
verse.     By  J.  Morgan.     London.     1641,  4to. 

3.  Treason  made  and  enacted  by  the  late  half-quarter  usurp 
ing  Convention,  with  a  petition  from  the  Shentleman  of  Wales 
to  their  cood  Worships.     Are  to  be  sol1   at  the  sign  of  the 
roasted  Rump,  n.  d.  4to. 

4.  The  Welshman's  Warning-piece,  as  delivered  in  a  sermon 
in  Shropshire,  by  Shon  ap  Morgan.     1642,  4to. 

5.  The  Welshman's  Prave  Resolution  in  defence  of  her  King. 

1642,  4to. 

6.  The  Welchman's  Recantation,  or  his  hearty  sorrow  for 
taking  up  of  Armes  against  her  Parliament.      1642,  4to. 

7.  A  Perfect  Diurnal,  or  Welch  Post,  with  her  creat  packet  of 
Letters,  for  her  to  carry  into  her  countrey  of  Whales,  touching 
her  pretren  proceeding  and  War  in  England.     With  a  woodcut 
on  the  title-page.     1643,  4to. 

8.  The  Welsh  Man's  Postures,  or  True  Manner  how  her  doe 
Exercise  her  company  of  Souldiers  in  her  own  Country.  1643, 
4to.  Woodcut  on  title. 

9.  The  Welcnman's  Petition.     Cut  on  title.     1642,  4to. 

10.  The  Welchman's  Last  Petition  and  Protestation ;  whereun- 
to  is  added  the  Protestation  of  Thomas  ap  Shinkin  ap  Morgan, 
&c.  1642,  4to.  Reprinted,  with  many  new  additions,  1643,  4to. 

11.  The  Welchman's  Declaration:    declaring  her  resolution 
to  be  revenged  on  her  enemies,  for  te  creat  many  of  her  Cousins 
and  Countreymen  in  Teane  Forrest  in  Glocestershire,  where  her 
was  most  cruelly  peaten.  Woodcut  on  title,  n.  d.  [1643].   4to. 

12.  The  Welch  Plunderer,  or  her  sore  lamentation  hearing 
of  P.  Roberts  pillaging  in  Gloucestershire.     1643,  4to.    Wood 
cut  on  title. 


324        THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

13.  The  Welch  Embassador,  or  the  Happy  Newes  his  wor 
ship  hath  brought  to  London  with  her  thirteen  Articles  of  acree- 
ments.     Frontispiece,     1643,  4to.     Reprinted,  1649,  4to. 

14.  The  Welch-man's  Complements,  or  Manner  how  Shinkin 
woed  his  Sweet-heart  Maudlin  after  Kenton  Battaile.     1643, 
4to.     With  a  woodcut. 

15.  Shou  ap]  Owen's  Sermon  before  Prince  Maurice.     With 
a  Poem.     1643,  4to. 

16.  The  Welchman  to  the  Archbishop  of  York.     1646.     4to. 

17.  The  honest  Welch-Cobler,  for  her  do  scorne  to  call  her- 
selfe  the  simple  Welch-Cobler  :  Although  her  thinkes  in  all  her 
consciences,   if  her   had   as   many  as   would   stand  betweene 
Paules  and  Sharing-Crosse,  that  her  have  not  so  much  Wit  as 
her  Prother  Cobler  of  America,  yet  her  thinke  her  may  have  as 
much  knavery.     By  Shinkin  ap  Shone,  &c.  London,  1647,  4to. 
4  leaves. 

18.  Crete  Wonders  foretold  by  the  Crete  Prophet  of  Wales. 
Woodcut.     1647, 4to. 

19.  The  Welch  Physician.     1647,  4to. 

20.  The  Humple  Remonstrance  of  Rice  ap  Meredith  ap  Mor 
gan,  Shentilman  of  Wales,  to  te  Parliaments  of  Enghelandes 
and  her  cood  lord  Shenerals.     Togeter  with  a  fery  prave  new 
Ballacks  or  Songs.     London,  Printed  by  Robert  Wood.     1650, 
4to. 

2L.  The  Welch  Traveller.     1671.     12mo.     12  leaves. 

22.  Wonderful  Newes  from  Wales,  in  a  true  narrative  of  an 
old  Woman  [Jane  Morgan]  living  near  Llanselin  in  Denbigh 
shire,  whose  Memory  serves  her  to  relate  what  she  hath  seen 
and  done  130  years  ago.     London,  1677,  4to.     14  leaves. 

23.  Muscipula:  sive  Cambro  muri-maxia.     1709,  4to. 

24.  The  Mouse-Trap,  or  the  Welchman's  Scuffle  with  the 
Mice.     1709,  4to. 

25.  The  Welchman's  Catechism:    or  Taffy's  Instructions. 
1705,  4to. 

26.  The  Welchman's  Last  Will  and  Testament.     A  Poem. 
The  Second  Edition.     London,    Printed   for   Tho.   Bickerton, 
1719,  8vo. 

27.  Jenkin  of  Wales,  his  Loue  Course  and  Perambulation,  an 
Early  Droll,  performed  at  the  Red  Bull  Theatre  about  the  yeaj 
1647. 


THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER.        325 

28.  The  Pleasant  History  of  Taffy's  Progress  to  London,  with 
the  Welshman's  Catechism — 

"  Behold  in  Wheelbarrow  I  come  to  town, 
With  wife  and  child  to  pull  the  Taffies  down : 
For  sweet  St.  David  shall  not  be  abusM, 
And  by  the  rabble  yearley  thus  misus'd." 

London,  Printed  for  F.  Thorn,  near  Fleet-street,  1707,  sm.  8vo. 

29.  The  Life  and  Death  of  Sheffery  Morgan,  the  Son  of  Shou 
ap  Morgan.     Newcastle,  circa  1760,  12mo. 

The  following  is  a  collection  of  our  author's  performances,  so 
far  as  they  are  known,  or  capable  of  being  identified : — 

1.  Love's  Court  of  Conscience.     Written  upon  two  severall 
Occasions ;  with  new  Lessons  for  Lovers.  Whereunto  is  cunexed 
a  kinde  Husband's  advice  to  his  Wife.     London,  Printed  for 
Richard  Harper.     1637,  8vo.     16  leaves. 

2.  An  Excellent  Sonnet  of  the  Unfortunate  Loves  of  Hero  and 
Leander.     [A  dialogue  in  verse.]    To  the  tune  of  Gerards  Mis- 
tris.     By  H.  Crouch.     Printed  for  F.  Coles,  T.  Vere,  and  J. 
Wright.     With  four  cuts. 

3.  A  godly  exhortation  to  the  distressed  Nation,  shewing  the 
true  cause  of  this  unnatural  Civill  War  amongst  us.     In  verse. 
London,  Nov.  9,  1 642.     A  sheet.     Br.  Museum. 

4.  The  Industrious  Smith,  wherein  is  shown, 
How  plain-dealing  is  overthrown. 

A  ballad  [circa  1635],     Br.  Museum. 

5.  The  Lady  Pecunia's  journey  into  Hell  with  her  speech  to 
Pluto,  maintaining  that  she  sends  more  Soules  to  Hell  than  all 
his  friends.     With  Pluto's  answer   and  applause.     In  verse. 
London,  Jan.  30,  1653-4.     A  sheet,  with  2  cuts.     Br.  Museum. 

6.  The  Parliament  of  Graces,  briefly  shewing  the  banishment 
of  peace.     London,  Dec.  12,  1642,  4to.     Br.  Museum. 

7.  The  Madman's  Morrice, 
Wherein  you  shall  finde 

The  trouble  and  grief  and  discontent  of  his  minde, 
A  warning  to  yong  men  to  have  a  care 
How  they  in  love  intangled  are. 
London  [circa  1640].     A  broadside  in  verse.     Br.  Museum. 

8.  An  Elegie  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Sir  Edmondbury  God- 


326         THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

• 

fray.     By  H.  C[rouch  ?]     London,  1678,  folio.    A  sheet.     Br. 
Museum. 

9.  The  Greeks  and  Trojans  warres : 

Caus'd  by  that  wanton  Trojan  Knight  Sir  Paris, 
Who  ravishes  Hellen  and  her  to  Troy  carries. 

With  a  fit  allusion 

Before  the  conclusion : 

Ireland  is  our  Hellen  fair, 

Ravish'd  from  us  from  want  of  care. 
ByH.  C.     London  [1640?],  folio,  a  sheet.     Br.  Museum. 

10.  England's  jests  refin'd    and  improv'd;    being  a  choice 
collection  of  the  merriest  jests.     By  H.  C[rouch?]     3rd.  Ed. 
London,  1693,  8vo. 

11.  The  Heroick  History  of  Guy  Earle  of  Warwick.    Written 
by  Humphrey  Crouch.     A  sheet.     London,  printed  for ,  Jane 
Bell.     1655.1 

12.  The  Distressed  Welshman  born  in  Trinity  Lane,  with  a 
Relation  of  his    unfortunate  Travels.     Printed  by  and  for  T. 
Norris,  at  the  Looking  Glass  on  London-bridge,  n.d.  12mo.     In 
verse.     With  two  woodcuts.     In  the  Pepysian  Library. 

In  Hartshorne's  Book  Rarities  this  tract  is  ascribed  to  Hugh 
Crompton ;  but  it  was,  from  the  similarity  of  topic  and  style,  far 
more  probably  Crouch's  work.  Besides,  no  one  ever  heard  of 
any  writer  of  the  name  of  Hugh  Crompton,  except  the  author  of 
Pierides,  1657,  who  must  have  been  dead  many  years  when  this 
Distressed  Welshman  was  first  introduced  to  public  notice. 

13.  The  Mad  Pranks  of  Tom  Tram,  Son-in-law  to  Mother 
Winter ;    whereunto  is  added  his  Merry  Jests,  Odd  Conceits, 
and  pleasant  Tales,  very  delightful  to  read.     In  three  parts. 
Of  this  there  were  several  impressions ;  an  early  one  is  in  the 
Pepysian. 

1  It  is  surprising  how  popular  this  subject  was.  Samuel  Row 
lands  wrote  a  poem  on  it,  which  passed  through  many  editions ; 
and  R.  Oulton  entered  at  Stationer's  Hall,  on  the  24th  of  Novem 
ber,  1640,  "  a  book  called  The  true  Story  of  Guy  earle  of  War- 
wicke.  By  Marty n  Parker."  In  prose.  See  Ritson's  Robin 
Hood,  1795,i.  127.  But  none  of  these  later  essayshas  theslightest 
literary  or  critical  value,  they  being  nothing  more  than  penny 
histories. 


THE   WELCH   TRAVELLER.        327 

Probably  one  of  the  earliest  illustrative  notices  we  have  in 
print  of  Wales  and  the  Welsh  is  contained  in  the  second  chapter 
of  Borde's  Boke  of  the  Introduction  of  Knowledge,  of  which  W. 
Copland  printed  two  (or  more)  editions  about  1550. 

A  play  called  The  Welsh  Traveller  is  mentioned  in  Sir  Henry 
Herbert's  Diary,  under  date  of  May  10,  1622,  as  a  new  play 
licensed  for  performance  by  the  Children  of  the  Revels.  It  is 
not  known  to  exist  in  print  or  MS.  Three  other  dramas,  in 
which  Welshmen  are  made  to  figure,  are  described  by  Mr.  Hal- 
liwell  in  his  Dictionary  of  Old  Plays,  1860— viz.  The  Welsh 
Embassador,  (circa  1625),  The  Welshman,  1595,  and  The  Welsh 
man's  Prize,  1598.  They  all  appear  to  have  perished. 

The  editor  is  inclined  to  regard  Crouch  as  the  person  to  whom 
the  modernized  and  lengthened  version  of  the  famous  history  of 
Tom  Thumb  should  be  ascribed.  It  will  be  found  printed,  with 
the  older  one,  in  the  second  volume. 


THE  Welch  Traveller : 


OR 


The  Unfortunate  WELCHMAN: 

If  any  Gentleman  do  want  a  Man, 

As  I  doubt  not  but  fotne  do  now  and  than, 

I  have  a  Welchman :  though  but  meanly  clad, 

Will  make  him  merry,  be  he  nerefo  fad: 

If  that  you  read,  read  it  quite  ore  I  pray, 

And  you  I  not  think  your  penny  caji  away. 

BY   HUMPHRY   CROUCH. 


London.     Printed  for  William  Whit  wood  at  the  lign  of  the 
Bell  in  Duck-Lane  near  Smithfield.     1671. 


Irafceller* 


this  Dull  age  to  recreate 
the  minds  of  friends  and  strangers, 
Hur1  tell  hur  of  hur  evil  Fate, 
and  hur  unlookt  for  dangers. 
Was  travel  over  mountains  high 

and  in  the  vallies  low, 
Was  see  great  wonders  in  the  skie 

that  others  little  know. 
Hur  was  a  welch  Astrologer, 

was  tell  of  matters  strange,  10 

So  deep  was  learn'd  was  tell  to  hur, 

how  oft  the  Moon  doth  change ; 
Was  tell  hur  of  a  Shepherds  star, 

Of  wonders  old  and  new, 
If  hur  have  peace,  hur  have  no  war, 

all  this  hur  prove  is  true. 
Was  tell  hur  too  in  loving  words 
things  shall  be  as  before, 

1  Orig.  has  he;  but  as  the  author  evidently  intended,  here 
and  throughout  the  poem,  to  satirize  the  Cambro-British  pecu 
liarity  of  hur,  the  latter  form  has  been  adopted  in  preference  to 
one  in  which  there  is  no  meaning. 


332         THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

When  English  men  lay  down  their  swords, 

and  mean  to  fight  no  more:  20 

But  all  these  things  hur  will  pass  by, 

as  matters  light  and  small ; 
Hur  knows  not  hur  own  destiny, 

and  that's  the  worst  of  all. 
For,  as  hur  gazed  on  the  skie 

for  want  of  better  wit, 
Poor  Taffie  fell  immediately 

into  a  great  deep  pit. 
Had  not  a  shepherd  stood  his  friend, 

and  helpt  hur  quickly  out,  -so 

Hur  surely  there  had  made  an  end, 

Hur  makes  no  other  doubt. 
Hur  gave  hur  thanks  the  Shepherd  then 

spake  to  hur  when  'twas  meet, 
Bid  hur  and  other  such  like  men 

look  better  to  hur  feet. 
No  more  Astrologer,  I  pray, 

was  glad  her  life  was  sav'd, 
Hur  soberly  walkt  on  her  way 

and  food  was  all  hur  crav'd.  40 

O  !  hur  was  hungry  and  cold, 

hur  strength  began  to  fail, 
Hur  had  no  silver  nor  no  gold, 

he  tells  hur  what  hur  ail. 
Hur  sold  hur  lowsie  sherkin  then, 

but  one  poor  groat  was  given, 
Oh  !  hur  was  then  a  shentleman, 

hur  thought  hur  was  in  heaven : 


THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER.        333 

For  hur  had  money  for  to  buy 

victual  for  one  meal,  50 

That  hur  might  not  for  hunger  die, 

not  yet  be  forced  to  steal 
Into  an  Ale-house  went  he  streight ; 

here  an  old  wife  did  live, 
Who  sold  then  at  too  dear  a  rate, 

and  had  nothing  to  give. 
Hur  sate  hur  down,  and  call'd  for  meat ; 

hur  Hostis  brought  her  eggs 
Had  shickens  in  them.     0  base  shade  I1 

these  shickens  they  had  leggs.  GO 

Her  shickens  and  her  eggs  did  stink, 

hur  could  no  longer  stay, 
Had  they  been  living,  sure  hur  think 

they  would  have  run  away. 
Her  best  eggs  that  were  in  her  dish, 

that  had  no  shicks,  were  rotten, 
And  then  she  brought  her  stinking  fish, 

which  hur  [has]  not  forgotten. 
Hur  cast  her  eggs,  her  fish  and  all. 

into  hur  hostis  face,  70 

And  then  to  spewing  hur  did  fall, 

was  in  a  piteous  case. 
Hur  hostis  cried  out  piteously, 

and  called  her  son  in  Law, 
Who  beat  poor  Taffie  piteously, 

the  like  hur  never  saw, 
Those  heavy  blows  hur  still  doth  feel 

was  laid  on  hur  alas ! 

1  Jade. 


334        THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

As  if  hur  body  had  been  steel, 

and  bones  were  made  of  brass.  so 

The  cruel  blows  did  hur  receive 

from  that  hard-hearted  elfe, 
Was  tell  hur,  if  hur  give  hur  leave, 

made  hur  bewray  herself. 
Was  tell  hur  how  herself  was  freed, 

was  fain  to  use  hur  wit, 
With  all  dexterity  and  speed 

was  well  hur  was  be  ... 
Was  put  hur  hands  into  hur  breeks, 

and  pul'd  from  off  hur  thighs  90 

A  thing  was  made  of  cheese  and  leeks, 

and  cast  it  in  her  eyes : 
Her  son  was  blind,  her  mother  blind, 

no  boot  for  hur  to  stay, 
Hur  left  a  filthy  stink  behind, 

and  so  hur  run  away. 
Was  glad  was  gone  from  them  two  tevils, 

from  son  and  the  old  hag ; 
In  midst  of  all  those  woful  evils 

there's  none  had  cause  to  brag.  100 

My  bones  did  ake,  their  eyes  did  smart, 

and  such  a  stink  was  there, 
Which  men  could  not  with  all  their  art 

make  sweet  in  half  a  year. 
But  now  hur  knows  not  what  to  do, 

hur  hunger  to  suffice ; 
At  length,  with  walking  to  and  fro, 

an  apple-tree  espies. 


THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER.        335 

The  apples  did  so  lovly  look, 

did  move  hur  unto  laughter,  110 

No  delaies  could  hur  brook 

hur  shops  so  much  did  water. 
Up  in  the  tree  hur  gets ; 

the  owner  came  anon  ; 
Made  hur  almost  besides  hur  wits, 

a  cruel  fight  began : 
The  man  at  hur  did  throw  great  stones, 

and  hur  did  apples  cast ; 
The  stones  did  so  bethumb  hur  bones, 

that  down  hur  fell  at  last.  120 

When  hur  was  down,  mark  what  befell : 

her  hostis  and  her  son 
Came  running,  when  their  eyes  were  well, 

beholding  what  was  done. 
He  took  hur  up  was  almost  dead  ; 

they  laughed  out  amain ; 
They  cuffed  hur,  and  thus  they  said : 

was  hope  hur  had  been  slain. 
They  counsel  took,  and  did  agree, 

more  mischief  did  befall,  130 

They  said  they'd  hang  hur  on  a  tree, 

and  I  must  pay  for  all. 
To  escape  from  this  ungodly  train, 

it  was  hur  chief  desire, 
Hur  cried  out  with  might  and  main  : 

your  houses  are  on  fire  ! 
A  gallant  trick  it  was  of  mine 

for  to  escape  hur  foes : 


336         THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

A  man  a  singeing  of  a  Swine, 

from  whence  the  smoak  arose.  HO 

They  run  with  speed  to  quench  the  fire, 

that  never  was  begun, 
And  glad  was  hur  they  did  retire, 

that  hur  away  might  run 
Over  hill  and  over  dale, 

till  hur  was  almost  spent ; 
At  last  hur  legs  began  to  fail, 

which  wrought  hur  discontent. 
And  then  into  a  hedge  hur  crept, 

thinking  to  take  a  nap,  iso 

And  then  hur  sate  hur  downe  and  wept, 

lamenting  hur  mishap. 
At  last  a  handsome  man  came  by, 

with  him  a  pretty  Lass. 
These  Lovers  did  not  hur  espy, 

but  set  them  on  the  grass ; 
He  to  this  Maid  a  Ring  did  give, 

which  she  did  well  accept : 1 
And  with  a  kiss  did  her  relieve, 

and  close  unto  her  crept.  i«o 

This  ring,  it  seems,  did  prove  too  wide, 

which  gallantly  did  shine  ; 
From  off  her  finger  it  did  slide, 

and  so  at  last  was  mine. 
This  Ring  hur  much  did  think  upon  ; 

they  minded  more  their  play ; 
So  when  these  Lovers  they  were  gone, 

hur  fouDd  it  w[h]ere  it  lay. 

1  Old  ed.  has  except. 


THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER.     337 

Hur  put  it  up  into  hur  poke, 

away  hur  went  amain :  170 

For  why,  hur  was  afraid  those  folks 

would  quick  return  again. 
Now  hur  had  got  a  gay  gold  King, 

hur  know  not  where  to  bide, 
It  was  fine  brave  and  gallant  thing 

was  puff  hur  up  with  pride. 
But  Fortune  often  playes  the  Jade ; 

she's  seldome  constant  known, 
For  why,  at  last  hur  was  betray'd ;  iso 

hur  could  not  keep  hur  own : 
For,  going  through  a  town,  got  wot, 

amongst  some  ill-bred  curs, 
Hur  shewd  it  to  a  cheating  trot, 

who  said  the  Ring  was  hers. 
Cuts  plutteranails  !    was  tell  a  lie, 

hur  found  it  as  hur  went ; 
But  she  used  such  extremity, 

which  wrought  hur  discontent. 
Before  a  Justice  brought  hur  then, 

and  there  hur  kept  such  stirs,  iso 

The  Justice  said  before  all  men, 

that  sure  the  Eing  was  hers. 
Hur  called  the  Justice  great  Boobee ; 

then  hur  receiv'd  some  knocks. 
The  Justice  made  no  more  ado, 

but  sent  hur  to  the  stocks. 
The  boyes  did  jear  hur  to  hur  face, 

and  call'd  hur  thief  and  knave ; 

VOL. IV.  Z 


338      THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

O  !  was  it  not  a  great  disgrace 

that  boyes  should  hur  out-brave  ?  200 

Now  hur  hath  mark'd  what  hath  been  past, 

now  mark  but  this  one  thing, 
The  man  and  maid  came  by  at  last, 

that  lost  this  gay  gold  ring. 
How  glad  was  hur  then  in  the  end, 

though  hur  was  but  a  thief? 
Hur  hop'd,  that  hur  would  stand  hur  friend, 

to  ease  hur  of  hur  grief. 
Hoe  !   shentlemen,  hur  pray  hur  stay, 

and  likewise  hur  fair  maid,  210 

Did  not  hur  lose  hur  ring  today? 

regard  her  what  hur  said. 
They  wondred,  how  he  came  to  know, 

how  she  should  lose  the  ring : 
Nor  did  they  know  what  they  should  do, 

for  to  regain  this  thing. 
Have  you  any  King  kind  rilan  ?  quoth  they, 

tell  us  if  that  you  took  it  ? 
Hur  had  the  Eing  as  hur  may  say, 

but  now  hur  may  go  look  it.  220 

A  woman  cheated  hur  of  it, 

her  kept  such  grievous  stirs, 
For  want  of  honesty  or  wit, 

her  justice  said  'twas  hers. 
And  can  you  tell,  where  [s]he  doth  dwell, 

that  wrought  us  this  despight  ? 
For  oght1  hur  knows  hur  lives  in  hell, 

she's  such  a  wicked  wight. 

1  Old  ed.  has  oft. 


THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER.      339 

A  little  boy,  now  standing  by, 

told  them  where  [s]he  did  live,  230 

The  author  of  their  villany ; 

a  groat  to  him  they  give. 
Unto  this  womans  house  they  go, 

before  a  justice  bring  her, 
Where  she  was  cast  with  much  ado, 

and  in  the  stocks  they  fling  her. 
Now  Taffie  had  his  hearts  desire ; 

he  had  her  company ; 
But  when  he  did  begin  to  jeer, 

she  in  his  face  did  flie.  240 

She  claw'd  him  so  with  her  nails, 

she  made  him  almost  mad ; 
He  was  not  used  so  in  Wales, 

his  luck  was  then  so  bad. 
Moreover,  as  I  understand, 

to  add  to  his  disgrace 
The  quean  she in  her  hand 

and  cast  it  in  hur  face  ; 
Cuts  plutteranails  !  beshrew  her  heart ! 

was  scurvey  quean  and  w .  250 

His  scratched  face  did  now  so  smart, 

which  made  him  cry  and  roar : 
Too  soon  I  wish  her  here,  quoth  he  ; 

but  now  I  wisht  her  further ; 
Or  that  from  her  I  might  be  free, 

for  fear  she  should  me  murther. 
The  company  that  stood  about 

did  laugh  at  him  a-good, 


340      THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

And  very  friendly  helpt  him  out, 

because  he  pleased  the  mood.  260 

Now  glad  was  he  that  out  did  get, 

and  left  this  foe  behind, 
After  they  two  so  long  had  fight, 

and  found  the  people  kind. 
His  scratched  face  did  vex  him  now, 

he  thought  upon  this  thing ; 
But  not  so  much,  I  tell  you  true, 

as  loss  of  this  gold  King. 
He  did  not  know  then  what  to  do, 

or  where  to  lye  that  night,  270 

He  wandreth  now  to  and  fro, 

and  kept  from  peoples  sight. 
At  last,  unto  a  house  he  came ; 

the  people  absent  were, 
No  man,  no  master,  maid  or  dame ; 

and  so  he  entred  there. 
Unto  the  smoak-loft  climb'd  he  then, 

and  to  the  Bacon  crept, 
Now  Taffie  is  a  jovial  man ; 

his  heart  within  him  leapt,  280 

He  cut  the  bacon,  which  was  raw ; 

no  bread  at  all  did  eat ; 
Kesolv'd  to  fill  his  hungry  maw, 

he  lustily  did  feed. 
He  fill'd  his  pockets  too,  besides, 

might  serve  him  for  tomorrow  ; 
He  knew  he  must  not  there  abide, 

'twas  but  the  fruits  of  sorrow. 


THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER.      341 

But  at  the  length  the  maid  came  in, 

then  he  could  not  get  out ;  290 

To  study  now  he  doth  begin 

to  bring  this  thing  about. 
At  length,  he  was  resolv'd  to  stay 

all  night  until  the  morrow, 
For  fear  they  two  should  have  a  fray, 

which  might  increase  his  sorrow. 
Well,  now  the  lusty  Plowmen  came 

to  feed  and  to  carouse ; 
As  for  the  Master  and  the  Dame, 

they  supt  at  the  next  house.  300 

When  the  Plowmen  well  had  fed, 

to  bed  they  took  their  way, 
For  I  have  often  heard  it  said, 

they  rise  by  break  of  day. 
But  time  brings  all  things  to  an  end ; 

now  home  the  woman  came : 
With  her  her  husband,  her  best  friend, 

who  was  a  Cock  o'th  game. 
They  wisht  the  Maid  to  go  to  bed ; 

she  need  not  be  intreated,  3io 

Whilst  Taffie  on  the  bacon  fed 

and  bravely  he  was  seated. 
For  he  upon  the  saddle  sate, 

unknown,  unseen  of  all, 
All  bedawb'd  with  bacon  fat, 

not  dreaming  he  should  fall. 
They  warm'd  their  leggs,  and  eke  their  feet ; 

the  man  now  wanton  grows ; 


342     THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

For  why,  he  thought  it  not  unmeet 

to  play  with  his  wives  toes.  320 

Thou  hast  a  pretty  foot,  quoth  he, 

a  handsome  leg  besides, 
A  soft  plump  thigh,  a  fair  white  knee, 

which  I  have  nigh  espied. 
Now  Taffie  had  a  great  desire 

to  play  the  sawcy  Jack. 
He  peepeth  down,  and  fell  i'th  fire, 

the  saddle  on  his  back : 
I've  brought  your  saddle  home,  he  cry'd, 

I  borrow'd  of  your  maid. 
The  man  and  woman  stept  aside  :  sso 

for  they  were  sore  afraid ; 
They  cried  out  most  piteously 

their  case  was  then  so  evil, 
Hoe  !  Cob,  hoe  !  Eob,  rise  speedily, 

and  help  to  kill  the  Devil ! 
So  when  the  Plowmen  did  awake, 

the  best  was  but  a  Clown, 
They  each  of  them  a  Cudgel  take, 

and  knock  poor  Taffie  down : 
They  threw  him  in  the  fire  again,  340 

who  was  but  new  crept  out ; 
They  said  they  had  the  Devil  slain, 

even  by  their  valour  stout. 
His  bacon  fried  in  his  poke, 

which  moved  them  to  laughter, 
Whilst  he  lay  broiling  in  the  smoak, 

and  curst  them  ever  after. 


THE   WELCH  TRAVELLER.       343 

He  tumbled  out,  and  thus  did  say  : 

I  take  these  things  in  snuff, 
Pray  give  me  leave  to  go  my  way ;  350 

has  punishment  enough. 
The  good  man  quickly  did  agree, 

and  j  eared  him  with  his  whimsey : 
Pray  if  you  come  again,  quoth  he, 

friend,  come  not  down  my  chimney. 
The  night  was  cold  and  dark,  got  wot ; 

no  star  was  in  the  skie ; 
But  as  for  Taffie  he  was  hot, 

you  know  the  reason  why. 
He  was  afraid  of  every  Dogg,  S60 

when  he  was  out  of  town  ; 
Almost  as  naked  as  a  frog, 

with  grief  he  sate  him  down 
Upon  a  bed  of  nettles  there, 

which  stung  him  grievously ; 
What  with  pain,  with  grief  and  care, 

he  wished  he  might  die. 
He  all  in  darkness  travelled ; 

his  nettled  flesh  did  smart, 
His  blistered  feet  were  gravelled,  s?o 

which  grieved  him  to  the  j^eart : 
Yet  he  was  musing  in  his  mind, 

what  house  to  go  to  next, 
Where  he  might  some  provision  find : 

for  nothing  more  perplext. 
Though  he  had  Bacon  in  his  poke 
might  yield  him  some  relief : 


344        THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

Yet  Taffie,  I  have  heard  it  spoke, 

was  bred  and  born  a  thief. 
When  hur  saw  people  work  and  toyl,  sso 

hur  Shentleman  was  born  ; 
What !  was  hur  think  hur  horse  or  mule ! 

hur  work  !  no,  think  it  scorn. 
By  this  time  it  was  break  of  day, 

and  he  a  barn  espied  ; 
He  to  this  barn  did  take  his  way, 

his  nakedness  to  hide : 
He  had  not  been  there  half  an  hour, 

or  hardly  sate  him  down, 
But  Gypsies  came,  in  number  four,  390 

who  came  from  Guildford  town. 
They  took  poor  Taffie  for  a  spright, 

and  stood  upon  their  guard  ; 
They  were  prepared  with  him  to  fight ; 

which  when  he1  saw  and  heard, 
He  cried  out  hur  was  a  man, 

though  by  misfortune  crost, 
That  hur  did  swear,  by  good  Saint  Nan, 

hur  wits  was  almost  lost. 
Hur  told  hur  all  hur  travels  great,  400 

and  hur  misfortunes  many, 
How  oft  hur  have  been  kickt  and  beat, 

no  comfort  had  from  any ; 
And  all  because  hur  would  not  work, 

but  lead  an  idle  life, 

1  Old  ed.  has  they. 


THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER.       345 

And  up  and  down  the  Country  lurk, 

as  cause  of  all  hur  strife. 
Kind  friend,  quoth  they,  you  shall  be  one 

of  our  fraternity ; 
Our  secrets  to  you  shall  be  known,  410 

and  we'll  live  happily. 
We  live,  as  you  do,  easily, 

but  have  our  wits  about  us  ; 
We  never  suffer'd  injury, 

nor  give  them  cause  to  flout  us. 
I  am  your  servant  and  your  friend, 

poor  Taffie  then  replied, 
I  hope  my  grief  is  at  an  end, 

if  I  with  you  abide. 
The  first  design  we'll  set  upon,  420 

if  you'l  our  secrets  keep, 
Shall  be,  for  ought  we  know,  anon, 

when  people  are  asleep. 
And  what  is  that?  quoth  Taffie  then, 

I  do  desire  to  know, 
You  look  like  good  plain  dealing  men, 

what  is  it  I  must  do  ? 
Nothing  but  rob  a  house,  quoth  they, 

of  bacon,  we  tell  you. 
Quoth  he :  I  was  in  such  a  fray  ;  430 

hur's  some ;  I  pray  fall  too. 
He  pull'd  a  piece  out  of  his  poke  ; 

the  bacon  it  was  warm  : 
Quoth  he  :  this  was  in  fire  and  smoke,  • 

but  I  had  all  the  harm. 


346        THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

He  shewd  his  burned  back  and  side, 

his  hands,  and  eke  his  face  ; 
They  laughed  at  his  burned  side, 

which  he  took  in  disgrace. 
They  eat  the  bacon  greedily,  440 

but  they  found  bread  and  drink  ; 
The[y]  praised  it  exceedingly, 

although  the  same  did  stink. 
Well,  now  themselves  to  sleep  they  lay  ; 

no  dangers  them  affright ; 
Most  commonly  they  sleep  all  day, 

and  do  their  work  by  night. 
They  all  concluded  at  the  last 

a  rope  should  him  befriend, 
That,  when  their  dangers  it  was  past,  450 

it  might  be  Taffie's  end. 
This  practise  wise  men  will  observe 

a  subtill  villany, 
Some  care  not  though  their  country  starve, 

so  they  may  gain  thereby. 
Taffie,  quoth  they,  your  office  mind ; 

we'll  let  you  down  the  chimney 
With  this  same  rope,  and  you  shall  find 
.    'twill  be  a  gallant  whimsey. 
When  thou  art  down,  the  bacon  bind  460 

with  this  same  rope  we  give  you, 
And  we  to  you  will  then  be  kind, 

and  with  the  same  relieve  you. 
When  this  is  done,  observe  us  then  ; 

we  straight  then  up  will  hale  you, 


THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER.       347 

And  you  do  think  us  honest  men, 

think  not  that  we  will  fail  you. 
They  let  him  down,  to  work  he  falls, 

the  bacon  straight  doth  bind  ; 
The  Gypsies  up  the  bacon  hale,  470 

and  leave  the  fool  behind. 
Taffie,  we  thank  thee  for  our  swine, 

we  can  no  longer  stay  ; 
The  bacon's  ours,  the  halter's  thine  ; 

make  haste,  and  get  away. 
They  cast  their  halters  on  his  head, 

and  calld  him  foolish  elf, 
And  with  the  bacon  streight  they  fled, 

and  bid  him  hang  himself. 
Same  take  you  all,  was  serve  them  so,  480 

hur  best  daies  now  are  gone  ; 
Now  out,  alas  !  what  shall  hur  do  ? 

hur  now  was  quite  undone. 
Was  find  hur  heart  to  hang  hurself, 

was  take  hur  for  a  tief ; 
More  misery  hur  must  endure, 

and  so  add  grief  to  grief; 
Or  else  was  broil  hur  on  the  coles, 

as  hur  once  did  before  : 
The  world  is  full  of  knaves  and  fools,  490 

O  !  there  was  never  more  ! 
Hur  will  stand  here,  let  what  will  come, 

out-face  the  worst  of  evil. 
Hur  will  not  speak,  hur  being  dumb  ; 

was  take  hur  for  the  Tevill, 


348        THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

Was  all  bedawb'd  hurself  with  crock, 

was  warrant  hur  will  scare  hur, 
And  stand  as  still  as  any  stock, 

no  matter  though  hur  jear  hur. 
Taffie  now  doth  domineer  500 

with  face  as  black  as  hell ; 
Hur  means  to  put  them  all  in  fear, 

who  in  the  house  did  dwell. 
Now  down  into  the  house  hur  comes, 

unto  the  Cubbard  goes, 
The  bread  and  butter  so  bethumbs  ; 

at  last  the  maid  arose. 
Beholding  there  his  ugly  face, 

she  cried  out  amain  : 
She  runs  up  stairs  in  little  space,  5io 

for  fear  she  should  be  slain. 
Master,  quoth  she,  O  save  my  life ! 

in  such  a  fear  he  put  her, 
The  Devil's  below  with  his  long  knife, 

cutting  of  bread  and  butter  ! 
What,  art  thou  mad,  quod  he,  my  wench  ? 

or  art  thou  in  a  dream  ? 
He  took  a  sword  lay  on  a  Bench, 

and  down  at  length  he  came. 
The  good  wife  cried  out  amain  :  520 

heaven  keep  us  from  all  evil ! 
Good  husband  come  to  bed  again  ; 

will  you  fight  with  the  Devil  ? 
I  prethee,  wife,  let  me  alone, 

the  man  did  thus  reply, 


THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER.      349 

If  that  this  Devil  he  not  gone, 

my  manhood  I  will  try. 
But  when  he  came  the  Devil  to  eye, 

he  looked  wondrous  pale, 
His  manhood  then  he  durst  not  try,  530 

his  courage  now  doth  fail. 
The  man  afraid,  the  Devil  afraid, 

stood  gazing  on  each  other ; 
At  last  the  good  wife  and  the  maid 

call'd  down  the  good  man's  brother. 
Brother,  lend  me  your  sword,  quoth  he, ' 

and  i'le  lend  you  my  aid  ; 
But  when  he  came  this  Devil  to  see, 

he  was  as  much  afraid. 
When  Taffie  see  them  all  arnaz'd,  540 

he  stoutly  marched  away ; 
Upon  each  other  they  gaz'd, 
and  knew  not  what  to  say. 
They  dined ;  well,  mark  what  ensued  ! 

when  as  they  came  to  sup, 
They  mist  the  bacon,  and  conclude 

the  Devil  had  eat  it  up. 
Now  Taffie  is  a  lusty  blade, 

possessed  with  strange  fits, 
Made  all  the  children  sore  afraid,  550 

almost  beside  hur  wits. 
The  children  hiding  places  sought, 

he  put  them  in  such  fear, 
Lest  Taffie,  who  the  Devil  was  thought, 
would  them  in  pieces  tear. 


350       TEE  WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

They  durst  not  go  to  school  by  day, 

nor  rest  in  beds  at  nights, 
For  fear  he  should  fetch  them  away, 

he  put  them  in  such  frights. 
The  women  at  this  matter  frown,  560 

and  they  conclude  with  speed 
To  beat  the  Devil  out  of  town 

that  did  this  mischief  breed  ; 
"With  shovels,  spades,  staves  and  stones, 

they  beat  poor  Taffie  so, 
That  they  had  almost  broke  his  bones  ; 

such  cruelty  they  show. 
Upon  his  hands  and  feet  he  creeps, 

to  show  that  he  was  almost  lam'd, 
And  then  he  sets  him  down,  and  weeps,  570 

his  courage  now  is  tam'd. 
Unto  a  Church  at  last  goes  he, 

to  hide  him  out  of  sight, 
So  then  he  thought  he  should  be  free 

from  all  their  hate  and  spight. 
Within  a  Pew  he  clos[e]ly  lay 

all  night  untill  the  morrow, 
Untill  the  Sexton  came,  they  say, 

which  did  increase  his  sorrow. 
Taffie  peept  out  with  his  black  snout,  sso 

which  made  him  sore  afraid ; 
He  like  a  mad  man  run  about, 

and  call'd  aloud  for  aid. 
Two  hundred  armed  men  he  brought, 

the  Church  encompast  round, 


THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER.       351 

And  for  this  Devil  there  they  sought, 

and  him  at  length  they  found. 
Art  thou  the  Devil,  quoth  they,  that  dost 

scare  all  our  children  so  ? 
Or  art  thou  some  disturbed  Ghost,  590 

that  wandreth  to  and  fro  ? 
No,  hur  was  Taffie,  was  a  man 

of  flesh  and  blood,  and  bone  ; 
Was  not  believe  hur,  feel  hur  then, 

or  else  let  hur  alone. 
Thou  art  a  counterfeit,  quoth  they, 

a  false  dissembling  knave  ; 
Come,  Gentlemen,  bring  him  away, 

he  his  reward  may  have. 
Two  hundred  men  to  guard  him  then  t>oo 

with  Musquets,  Pikes  and  Swords, 
And  they  were  not  the  meanest  men 

the  country  then  affords. 
Taffie  long  time  with  them  did  trudge  ; 

his  heart  was  wondrous  sad; 
They  brought  him  then  before  the  judge, 

where  he  [h]is  judgment  had. 
He  was  to  stand  i'th  Pillory 

for  four  long  hours  or  more, 
That  all  the  children  might  him  spy,  eio 

that  he  had  scar'd  before. 
A  many  then  against  him  came, 

running  with  all  speed, 
And  their  Indictments  thus  they  frame, 

if  you  please  them  to  read. 


352        THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER. 

Will  you  hear  more,  in  time  you  may, 
my  pen's  at  your  commanding  ; 

I  have  no  more  as  yet  to  say : 
for  there  I  left  him  standing. 


Taffies  Indidtment. 

3httpritttt0,  for  troubling  the  Shepherd  to  help  him 
out  of  the  pit. 

$t£ttt,  for  selling  the  lowsie  Jerken  for  a  groat,  which 
was  borrowed  of  his  Country  man  Pinken. 

Ittttt,  for  casting  stinking  fish  and  rotten  eggs  into 
his  hostis  face. 

,  for  casting  dung  in  his  Hostis  sons  face. 
,  for  casting  apples  at  the  Country  man  from 
the  tree,  when  he  had  the  worst  himself. 

>  for  going  away  with  the  gold  King. 
,  for  calling  the  justice  Boobee. 
3tt0flt,  for  sitting  in  the  stocks  with  an  old  woman. 
$tttlt,  for  creeping  up  into  the  smoak-loft,  and  then 
falling  down  into  the  fire  with  a  packsaddle  at  his  back. 
Jt0tttt  for  acting  the  Devils  part,  when  he  put  all 
the  house  into  a  bodily  fear. 


THE  WELCH  TRAVELLER.       353 

,  for  scaring  all  the  children  in  the  town. 

for  scaring  the  Sexton  in  the  Church,  for 
which  loose  behaviour  he  was  adjudged  to  stand  in  the 
Pillory,  where  I  leave  him  till  the  next  mad  prank  he 
shall  play. 


VOL.  IV. 


VOLUME  THE  FIRST. 


The  King  and  the  Barker. 

NTRODUCTION.  I  suspect  that  this  poem,  as 
it  has  come  down  to  us,  exhibits  corruptions  as  re 
gards  the  arrangement  of  the  lines,  and  that  the 
rhythm  has  seriously  suffered  in  consequence.  Take 
the  following  examples : — 

Line  5.      "  As  he  rode,  he  houertoke  yn  the  wey 

A  tanner  of  Dautre  yn  a  queynte  araye ; 

Blake  kow  heydys  sat  he  apon, 

The  hornys  heyng  besyde, 

The  kyng  low,  and  had  god  game, 

To  se  the  tannar  reyde. 

Howr  kyng  bad  hes  men  abeyde." 

?  Rearrange  thus : — 

"As  he  rode,  he  houertoke  yn  the  wey 
A  tanner  of  Dautre  yn  a  queynte  araye ; 
Blake  kow  heydys  sat  he  apon,  the  hornys  heyng  besyde ; 
The  kyng  low,  and  had  god  game  to  se  the  tannar  reyde. 
Howr  kyng  bad  hes  men  abeyde." 

Again  :— 

"  And  he  welde  sper  of  hem  the  wey 
Yffe  y  may  her  eney  now  tythyng 
Y  schall  het  to  yow  saye. 

Howr  kyng  prekyd,  and  seyde :  '  ser,  god  the  saffe,' 
The  taunar  seyde :  '  well  mot  yow  ffar' — " 


356  ADDITIONAL  NOTES. 

Should  not  the  text  stand  as  follows : — 

"  And  he  welde  sper  of  hem  the  wey 
YfFe  y  may  her  eney  now  tythyng,  y  schall  het  to  vow 

save. 

Howr  kyng  prekyd,  and  seyde:  'god  the  saffe,  ser.' 
The  tannar  seyde :  '  well  mot  yow  ffar.'  " 

Again,  at  line  82,  ought  we  not  to  read  the  poem  thus : — 

"  God  felow,  with  me  thow  must  abeyde, 
Seyd  our  kyng,  for  thow  and  y  most  an  hontyng  reyde." 

A  little  further  on,  at  line  86,  query — 

"  God  felow  lend  thow  me  theyne, 
And  hafe  her  meyne," 

At  line  89,  perhaps  the  arrangement  should  be — 

*;  Alas,  theyn  the  thanner  thowt,  he  well  reyde  away 
With  mey  hors ;  Y  well  after  to  get  hem,  and  y  mey." 

At  line  92  et  seqq,  I  am  inclined  to  suggest  a  redistribution, 
viz : — 

"  He  cast  them  yn  the  kyngs  schadyll,  that  was  a  neys  seyte ; 
Tho  he  satte  aboffe  them,  as  y  [y]ouw  seye; 
He  prekyd  fast  after  hem,  and  fond  the  redey  wey ; 
The  hors  lokyd  about  hem,  arid  sey 
On  euery  syde  the  kow  homes  blake  and  wheyte." 

At  the  same  time,  there  are  places  where  the  measure  seems  in 
capable  of  restoration,  and  it  is  impossible  to  be  certain  whether 
even  the  changes  suggested  above  would  be  authorized  by  the 
real  original  of  the  poem,  if  such  were  ever  to  come  to  light. 

There  are  many  separate  editions  of  this  piece,  subsequently 
to  Dauter's,  in- 1596.  Three  may  be  mentioned. 

A  pleasant  new  Ballad  of  King  Edward  the  Fourth  and  a 
Tanner  of  Tamworth,  as  he  rode  a  hunting  with  his  Nobles  to 
Drayton  Bassett.  To  an  excellent  new  Tune.  Printed  for  F. 
Coles,  T.  Vere,  J.  Wright,  and  J.  Clarke.  With  a  cut. 

A  pleasant  new  Ballad  of  King  Edward  the  Fourth  and  a 
Tanner  of  Tamworth.  Printed  for  F.  Coles,  T.  Vere,  and  W. 
Gilbertson.  With  two  cuts. 

In  the  4th  Part  of  Bill.  Heber.,  No.  1743,  was  another  im 
pression,  entitled,  "  A  Merry,  Pleasant,  and  Delectable  History 
between  King  Edward  the  Fourth  and  a  Tanner  of  Tamworth, 
as  he  rode  upon  a  time  with  his  Nobles  on  Hunting  toward 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES.  35? 

Drayton-Basset,  very  Pleasant  and  merry  to  Read.  With  cuts 
Printed  for  F.  Coles,  n.  d.  8vo. 

Of  the  ed.  of  1596,  the  only  copy  known  to  the  editor  is  that 
in  Selden,  Arch.  39,  4to ;  but  Percy  had  the  use  of  a  perfect  copy. 

Besides  the  license  of  this  ballad  to  William  Griffith,  in 
1564-5,  mentioned  at  p.  2,  note,  there  was  an  entry  of  it,  with 
several  other  articles,  to  Edward  White,  in  1585-6.  But  the  ear 
liest  printed  edition  of  it  now  known  is  that  of  1596  ;  for  a  notice 
of  which,  see  vol.  ii.  p.  59,  of  present  work. 

The  King  and  the  Hermit. 

This  tale  seems  to  acquire  an  additional  interest  and  value  from 
the  circumstance,  or  probability  rather,  that  it  belongs  to  the 
Robin  Hood  epoch— the  reign  of  Edward  II,  during  which  the 
great  Nottinghamshire  outlaw  is  conjectured  to  have  died.  In 
the  Lytel  Geste,  fytte  the  sixth,  ad  finem,  where  Robin  has  just 
liberated  Sir  Richard  at  the  Lee,  we  read :-  - 

"  Leve  thi  hors  the  behynde, 
And  lerne  for  to  renne ; 
Thou  shalt  with  me  to  grene  wode 
Through  myre,  mosse  and  fenne. 

Thou  shalt  with  me  to  grene  wode, 

Without  any  leasynge, 
Tyll  that  I  have  gete  us  grace 

Of  Edwards,  our  comly  Kynge" 

Then  the  7th  Fit  begins  thus : — 

"The  kynge  came  to  Notyrighame, 
With  knyghtes  in  grete  araye ; 
For  to  take  that  gentyll  knyght, 
And  Robyn  Hode,  yf  he  may." 

(Ritson's  Robin  Hood,  1795,  i.  62,  3.)  It  seems  far  from  un 
likely  that  we  ought  to  place  the  incident  which  is  narrated  in 
the  King  and  the  Hermyt,  therefore,  during  this  Nottinghamshire 
progress  of  Edward  II.  Our  hermit  also  made  his  house  in  the 
then  extensive  forest  of  Sherwood,  and  had  something  better  than 
bread  and  water  at  need  to  offer  a  visitor.  We  are  reminded 
strongly,  when  we  peruse  this  poem,  of  the  noted  character  of  a 
similar  class,  whom  Scott  has  introduced  into  his  Ivanhoe. 

The  whole  of  the  7th  Fit  of  the  Lytell  Geste  should  be  read 
in  connection  with  the  Kyng  and  the  Hermyt. 

In  Mr.  Black's  Catalogue  of  the  Ashmol.  MSS.  fol.  110,  this 
poem  is  described  as  "  The  gest  of  King  Edward  and  [in  ?]  the 
Forest  of  Shir  wood." 


358  ADDITIONAL  NOTES. 

The  closing  lines  are  printed  by  Mr.  Black  in  his  Catalogue  of 
the  Ashmol.  MSS.,  and  as  that  gentleman  gives  them,  they 
vary  in  a  very  few  literal  minutiae  from  the  text  given  here 
in  accordance  with  a  collation  forwarded  to  the  editor  by  Mr. 
Waring  from  Oxford. 

Line  77,  wylle.  Strike  out  the  note  upon  this  word ;  but  the 
explanation  is  correct.  Be  wrojt  was  a  misprint,  however,  for 
he  wro^t. 

Line  346.  Fusty  bandya*.  The  same  expression  is  used  by 
Skelton  without  any  obvious  meaning  in  his  Garlande  of  Lau- 
rell,  1523,  and  in  one  of  his  Poems  against  Garnesche.  In  the 
former  it  is  written  foisty  bawdias,  and  in  the  latter  fusty  bawdias. 
It  would  appear  to  belong  to  the  interjectional  vocabulary. 

The  Thrush  and  the  Nightingale. 

Line  1.  Somer  is  comen,  &c.  The  reader  may  perhaps  be  re 
minded  of  the  beautiful  and  most  ancient  song  in  praise  of  the 
cuckoo  (Ritson's  Anc.  Songs,  i.  10),  commencing  "  Sumer  is 
icumen  in."  The  present  is  not  quite  so  old,  probably,  but  it 
is  prior  to  a  second  piece  in  the  same  collection,  and  the  opening 
lines  of  the  two  are  almost  verbatim  identical. 

The  Fox  and  the  Wolf. 

Page  58.  A  short  prose  version  of  a  tale  similar  to  this  is 
printed  in  Mr.  Wright's  Latin  Stories,  p.  54,  under  the  title  of 
"  Fabula  de  vulpe  et  lupo." 

Ragman  Roll. 

This  is  mentioned  by  John  Heywood  in  an  interlude  printed 
in  1533.  It  was  perhaps  printed  about  that  date;  but  W.  de 
Worde  ceased  from  business  in  the  beginning  of  1535. — See 
Skelton's  Garlande  of  Laurell,  1523,  line  1490  (Works,  i.  420). 

Line  5.  In  brede.  So  Skelton,  in  the  Garlande  of  Laurell, 
523:— 

"  Yet  now  and  then 
Sum  Latin  men 
May  happely  loke 
Vpon  your  boke, 
And  so  precede 
In  you  to  rede, 
That  so  indede 
Your  fame  may  sprede 
In  length  and  brede." 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES.  359 

The  Debate  of  the  Carpenters  Tools. 

Line  14.  Twybylk.  Skelton,  in  one  of  his  Poems  against  Gar- 
nesche,  has  the  word. 

Line  303.      "  I  saye  thou  madde  Marche  hare, 
I  wondre  howe  ye  dare 
Open  your  iariglyng  iawes." 

Skelton's  Works,  i.  210. 

And  in  Magnyfycence,  the  same  writer  says,  — 
"As  mery  as  a  Marche  hare." 

Colin  Blowbols  Testament. 

Line  391.  Atropos.  Skelton,  in  his  Elegy  on  the  4th  Earl 
of  Northumberland  (Works,  i.  11),  thut,  addresses  this  per 
sonage  : — 

**  O  Atropos,  of  the  fatall  systers  iii 

Goddes  most  cruell  vnto  the  lyfe  of  man, 
All  merciles,  in  th6  is  no  pite ! 

0  homicide,  which  sleest  all  that  thou  can." 

It  seems  not  unlikely  that  the  author  of  this  whimsical  piece 
of  extravagance  may  have  seen  some  such  production  as  the 
drinking  song  by  Walter  Mapes,  introduced  into  Ritson's  An 
cient  Songs,  ed.  1829,  i.  3,  commencing : — 

"  Mihi  tst  propositum  in  tabernS,  mori." 

Skelton,  in  his  Diners  Balettys  and  Dyties  Solacyons  (Works, 
i.  23),  has  the  expression  "  blynkerd  blowboll." 

Syr  Peny. 

Syr  Peny.  Here  is  the  song  referred  to  in  the  Introduction, 
under  the  title  of  "  A  Song  in  praise  of  Sir  Penny :" — 

"  Go  bet,  Peny,  go  bet  [go], 
For  thu  makyn  bothe  frynd  and  fo. 
Peny  is  an  hardy  knyght, 
Peny  is  mekyl  of  myght, 
Peny  of  wrong,  he  makyt  ryght, 

In  every  cuntr6  qwer  he  goo. 

[Go  bet,  &c.] 


360  ADDITIONAL  NOTES. 

Thow  I  have  a  man  islawe, 
And  forfetyd  the  kynge"s  lawe, 
I  xal  fyndyn  a  man  of  lawe, 

Wyl  takyn  myn  peny,  and  let  me  goo. 

[Go  bet,  &c.] 

And  if  I  have  to  don  fer  or  ner, 
And  Peny  be  myn  massanger, 
Than  am  I  nothyng  in  dwer, 

My  cause  xal  be  wol  doo. 

[Gobet,&c.] 

And  if  I  have  pens  bothe  good  and  fyn, 
Men  wyll  byddyn  me  to  the  wyn, 
That  I 'have  xal  be  ther[in]  : 

Sekyrly  thei  wil  seyn  so. 

[Go  bet,  &c.] 

And  quan  I  have  non  in  myn  purs, 

Peny  bet,  ne  peny  wers, 

Of  me  thei  holdyn  but  lytil  fors, 
He  was  a  man,  let  hym  goo. 
[Go  bet,  Peny,  go  bet,  go, 
For  thu  makyn  both  frynd  and  fo.]'' 

To  the  publications  on  the  subject  of  money  ma}'  be  added, 
Hake's  Newes  out  of  Powles  Churchy  arde,  1567;  The  Massacre 
of  Money,  by  T.  A.,  1602 ;  The  World's  Sweet-heart,  a  ballad, 
printed  by  Mr.  Collier  in  his  "  Book  of  Roxburghe  Ballads," 
1847,  p.  7  ;  A  New  Dittie  in  Prayse  of  Money.  To  a  new  Tune 
called  the  Kings  Jigge,  in  Deloney's  Strange  Histories,  1607 
(Percy  Society's  ed.,  p.  66) ;  The  Lady  Pccunia's  Journey  unto 
Hell,  by  Humphrey  Crouch,  1653;  and  The  Death  and  Burmll 
ofMistresse  Money,  with  tier  Will  and  Funerall  Verses,  1664,  8vo. 

How  the  Wise  Man  taught  his  Son. 
Line  160.    Cliery  fayre.     See  Skelton's  Works,  ii.  85. 


How  the  Goode  Wif  thaught  her  Daughter. 
Line  48.    Borelle. 

"  This  is  to  say,  if  I  be  gay,  sir  schrewe, 
I  wol  renne  aboute,  my  borel  for  to  schewe." 

Wyf  of  Bathes  Prologe. 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES.  361 


Howe  a  Myrchand  dyd  Tiys  Wyfe  Betray. 

The  following  entries  relative  to  the  early  printed  edition  of 
this  production  (all  now  lost)  occur  in  the  Stationers'  Re 
gisters  : — 

"  [1560-1]  Rd  of  John  Sampson  for  his  lycense  for  the 
pryntynge  of  the  proude  wyves  pater  noster, 
a  penyworth  of  wytt,  and  the  plowmans 
pater  noster,  the  xiiiith  of  auguste  .  .  xiid 

[15  Januarii,  1581-2]  John  Charlwood.  Rd  of  him,  for  his 
lycense  to  printe  theis  Copies  hereafter  men 
tioned  Copies  which  were  Sampson 

Awdeleys,    and    now  lycenced    to  the  said 
John  Charlwood 

Thargumente  of  Apparell. 

A  PENNYWORTH  OP  WITTE. 

A  hundred  merry  tales. 

ADAM  BELL. 

The  banishment  of  Cupid. 

Crowleys  Epigrams. 

A  Foxe  Tale. 

Kiiige  Pontus. 

ROBIN  CONSCIENCE. 

A  PROUDE  WYVES  PR.  NR. 

A  Sackefull  of  newes. 

Sr  Eglamore. 

Gowre  de  Confess.  Amantis. 

The  good  Sheppard  and  the  Badde. 

See  also  vol.  ii.  p.  55,  of  present  work,  and  Introduction  to 
Books  in  meeter  of  Robin  Conscience. 

Ult°  Maij  [1594]  James  Rohertes.  Entred  for  his  copies, 
by  order  of  the  Court,  certen  Copies  which 
were  John  Charlwood's,  Salvo  jure  cvjuscunque. 

The  book  of  husbandry. 
Marcus  Aurelius. 

A  PENNYWORTH  OF  WIT. 

C.  mery  tales. 

ADAM  BELL. 

The  banishment  of  Cupid. 

ROBIN  CONSCIENCE. 

A  PROUD  WYVES  PR.  NR.  &C." 


362  ADDITIONAL  NOTES. 

Roberte  the  Deuyll. 

On  a  more  particular  examination  of  the  Garrick  copy  of  this 
romance,  I  find  that  it  contains  twenty-eight  leaves,  and  not 
twenty-nine,  as  stated  by  Mr.  Thorns. 

King  Eolerd  of  Cysille. 

Erratum,  page  269,  line  15  from  top.  For  in  a  half  a  penni- 
worth  of  Paper  read  in  half  a  peni-worth  of  Paper. 


VOLUME  THE  SECOND. 

The  Squyr  of  Lowe  Degre. 

"A  SQUIRE  was  a  jstate  or  condition  inferiour,  and,  generally 
speaking,  preparatory  to  that  of  a  knight,  upon  whom  the  squire 
attended  in  the  nature  of  a  servant;  haveing  the  care  of  his 
horse  and  armour ;  dressing  and  undressing  him ;  and  carveing 
his  meat,  and  serveing  him  with  bread  and  wine,  at  table.  See 
Memoires  sur  VAncienne  Chevallerie,  tome  I,  part  ii,  &c.  A  most 
curious  and  interesting  account  of  the  education,  employments, 
and  progress,  of  a  page,  varlet,  or  squire,  will  be  found  in  the 
Histoire  et  Plaisante  Cronique  du  petit  Jehan  de  Saintre,  an  excel 
lent  romance  of  the  fifteenth  century  (Paris,  1523,  1724)." — 
Ritson. 

The  entry  of  this  piece  to  John  King  was  as  follows : — 

"Recevyd  of  John  Kynge,  for  his  lycense  for  pryntinge  of 
these  Copyes,  Lucas  vrialis  [Lucres  and  Euryalus  ?] ; 
nyce  wanton ;  impatiens  poverte ;  the  proud  wyues 
pater  noster ;  The  Squyre  of  Low  deggre ;  Syr  deg- 
gre;  graunted  the  x.  of  June,  1560  .  .  .  .  ii8" 

Chaucer,  in  Sir  Tfiopas,  has  ridiculed,  not  the  Squyr  of  Lowe 
Degre,  but  such  romances  of  the  same  class  as  existed  in  his  day, 
on  account  of  the  false  sentiment  and  imagery  with  which  they 
abounded. 

Line  1.  It  was,  &c.  The  older  edition,  of  which  only  the 
title  and  signatures  Aii,  A  iij,  and  A  iv,  altogether  four  leaves, 
are  at  present  known,  begin  on  A  ii  thus : — 

"  It  was  a  squyre  of  lowe  degree." 

It  may  be  presumed  that  the  variations  between  the  two  impres 
sions  were  merely  literal,  as  here,  but  a  collation  of  the  frag 
ment,  so  far  as  it  goes,  would  have  been  very  desirable,  if  access 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES.  363 

could  have  been  got  to  it.     No  bibliographer  has  been  hitherto 
aware  that  the  poem  was  printed  more  than  once. 

Line  824.  Hey  how  and  rumby  low.  See  Dyce's  Skelton,  ii.  110, 
and  Ritson's  Robin  Hood)  1795 ;  also  Gutch,  ii.  416,  443. 

The  KnygJit  of  Curtesy. 

Introduction,  page  66.  "  1857,  42"  is  a  printer's  error  for 
"1857,  4to."  In  the  same  piece,  the  head-line  should  read 
"  The  Knight  of  Curtesy  and  the  Lady  of  Faguel."  This  is  also 
a  printer's  error. 

In  a  Collection  of  Tales  in  MS,  written  about  1670,  (formerly 
in  the  possession  of  the  Archer  family),  occurs  "  A  Memorable 
Story  of  Captain  Coucy  and  his  Mistress."  See  Mr.  Halliwell's 
Catalogue  of  Shakespeare  Reliques,  1852,  4to.  p.  43. 

The  Batayle  of  Egyngecourte. 

This  portion  of  the  present  romance-poem  was  turned  by  the 
ballad-makers  to  their  own  uses,  for  we  have  in  the  Alderman- 
bury  Church-yard  series,  "King  Henry  V.  his  Conquest  of 
France  in  Revenge  for  the  Affront  offered  by  the  French  King 
in  sending  him  instead  of  the  Tribute  a  Ton  of  Tennis  Balls." 

Line  65  et  seqq.  In  the  Douce  Collection  at  Oxford  is  a  frag  - 
ment  of  two  leaves  of  a  printed  edition,  differing  entirely  from 
that  here  used.  The  editor  subjoins  an  illustration. 

SKOT'S  EDITION. 

"  Gramercy  syrs  the  kynge  gan  say 
Our  ryght  1  trust  than  shalbe  wonne 
And  I  wyll  quyte  you  yf  I  may 
Therfore  I  warne  you  bothe  olde  &  yonge 
To  make  you  redy  without  delay 
To  Southampton  to  take  your  waye 
At  saynt  Peters  tyde  at  Lammas 
For  by  the  grace  of  god  and  yf  I  maye 
Ouer  the  salte  see  I  thynke  to  passe." 

DOUCE  FRAGMENT. 

"  Gramercy  syrs  the  Kyng  can  say 
Our  ryght  I  trust  than  shall  be  wone 
And  I  wyll  quyte  you  if  I  may 
Therfore  I  warne  you  bothe  olde  and  yonge 
To  make  you  redy  without  delay 
To  Southampton  to  take  your  way. 


364  ADDITIONAL  NOTES. 

At  saynte  Peters  tyde  at  Lammasse 
For  by  the  grace  of  God  and  if  I  may 
Ouer  the  salte  see  I  thynke  to  passe." 

We  may  presume  Skot's  edition  to  have  appeared  about  1530, 
and  the  Douce  fragment  establishes  the  fact,  otherwise  unknown, 
that  there  was  another  early  printed  edition,  now  lost,  in  a  com 
plete  state,  or,  at  least,  not  hitherto  ascertained  to  be  anywhere 
extant. 

Justes  of  the  monetJis  of  Maye  and  June. 

Introduction  (page  111).  The  Princess  Mary  appears  to  have 
been  the  second  wife  of  Charles  Brandon,  Duke  of  Suffolk. 


Adam  Bell. 

This  poem  was  licensed  to  James  Roberts  in  1594,  and  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  between  that  and  1605,  the  date  of  the 
only  known  edition  from  his  press,  he  republished  it  several 
times.  Such  a  piece  would  be  in  too  great  demand  to  lie  idle 
during  eleven  years. 

Line  16.  Inglewood  Forest.  This  once  extensive  tract  of  land 
is  also  the  scene  of  two  tales  in  the  Arthurian  series,  the  Avow- 
ynge  of  King  Arthur,  and  the  Auturs  of  Arthur,  both  edited  by 
Mr.  Robson  for  the  Camden  Society,  1842,  4to. 

In  MS.  Ashmole,  115,  art.  102,  occurs:  "  De  communa  pas- 
turae  in  fo[resta]  de  Inglewode  in  com.  Cumbr[ise]  concessa  Ma- 
riae  ux[ori]  Guil.  de  Stapulton,  5  Feb.  13  Rich.  II. 

Tom  Thumb,  1630. 

Introduction,  p.  107-  In  The  Pleasant  History  of  Jack  Hor- 
ner  there  is  the  following  intimation  as  to  the  stature  of  Jack. 
The  editor  quotes  from  Mr.  Halliwell's  Notices  of  Popular 
English  Histories,  1848,  p.  33  :— 

"  Thus  few  was  like  him  far  and  nigh, 

When  he  to  age  was  come ; 

As  being  thirteen  inches  high, 

A  giant  to  Tom  Thumb." 

Page  167.  In  the  title-page  of  Robin  Good-fellow,  his  Mad 
Prankes,  &c,  1628,  Part  I,  a  woodcut  occurs,  in  which  Tom 
Thumb  is  represented  performing  on  a  pipe  at  the  right-hand 
corner. 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES.  365 

Garraguntua  is,  of  course,  a  printer's  error  for  Garragantita. 

Page  172.  The  editor  has  to  notice  another  impression  of 
this  very  popular  production.  It  is  also  preserved  in  the  Bod 
leian,  and  was  brought  to  his  notice  by  his  friend  Mr.  Waring. 
It  differs  very  unimportantly  from  that  of  1630,  and  a  few  of 
the  cuts  are  varied  for  the  worse.  The  imprint  is :  "  Printed  for 
F.  Coles,  J.  Wright,  T.  Vere,  and  William  Gilbertson."  In 
12mo,  without  date  [circa  1650].  The  copy  was  formerly  A.  a 
Wood's. 

For  some  further  notices  of  this  myth,  and  references  to 
authorities,  see  Thorns'  Early  Prose  Romances,  1828,  Preface, 
xi.  The  British  Museum  possesses  a  version  of  this  legend  iu 
Arabic. 

The  Notbrowne  Mayde. 

The  strong  affinities  between  the  legendary  lore  of  our  own 
country  and  that  of  Germany  and  Northern  Europe  are  too 
familiar  to  be  insisted  upon.  The  editor  regards  the  Notbrowne 
Mayde  as  a  composition  of  English  growth,  and  it  is  not  un 
likely  that  Arnold  himself  was  the  writer  or  modernizer.  It  is 
hard  to  know  what  weight  exactly  to  attach  to  Douce's  theoiy. 
The  poem  presents  to  us  an  episode  for  which  the  perturbed 
condition  of  the  kingdom  in  the  fifteenth  century  was  apt  to 
supply  plenty  of  foundation  and  material ;  the  author  may  have 
had  in  his  eye  the  antecedent  legend  of  Robin  Hood,  the 
(alleged)  Earl  of  Huntingdon  and  the  fair  Matilda,  the  Lord 
Fitzwater's  daughter — the  Maid  Marian  of  the  ballads,  if,  at 
least,  at  the  period  when  the  Notbrowne  Mayde  was  originally 
written,  the  noble  birth  of  the  Sherwood  outlaw  obtained  cre 
dence,  which  can  scarcely  be  regarded  as  very  probable. 

Mr.  Wright's  edition  is  printed  with  commendable  fidelity ; 
not  more  than  some  half-dozen  trifling  deviations  from  his 
original  were  discovered  by  the  present  editor,  upon  a  diligent 
collation. 

It  is  proper  to  remark,  that  in  the  first  edition  the  con 
tractions  are  more  numerous  than  in  the  second,  which  was 
evidently  corrected  before  going  to  press.  The  text,  how 
ever,  as  a  whole,  is  inferior  to  that  of  the  first  edition.  The 
latter  usually  employs  y£  and  ye  for  that  and  the;  such  ordinary 
forms  as  wrog  for  wrong,  and  amog  for  among,  &c. 

Hearne,  in  a  letter  to  James  West  (Restituta,  i.  70),  announced 
a  conjecture  that  the  Notbrowne  Mayde  was  by  Thomas  Ehnham, 
author  of  the  Vita  Henrici  Quinti.  In  Censura  Literaria,  vol. 
vi,  several  pages  are  devoted  to  a  theory  upon  the  authorship 
of  the  poem,  based  on  mistaken  premises. 


366  ADDITIONAL  NOTES. 

VOLUME  THE  THIRD. 

The  New  Noiborune  Mayd. 

MR.  WRIGHT  has  indicated  an  additional  example  of  the  mo- 
ralization  of  an  ancient  secular  performance  in  the  ballad  of 
"  Come  over  the  Burne,  Bessy,  to  me."  The  reader  will  find  a 
version  of  this  in  Dr.  Rimbault's  charming  "  Little  Book  of 
Songs  and  Ballads,"  1851,  8vo,  where  is  also  printed  a  second 
ditty  of  the  same  complexion,  under  a  nearly  similar  title.  But 
Mr.  Collier,  in  his  Extracts  from  the  Stationers'  Registers,  has 
referred  to  several  instances  where  a  ballad  of  real  merit  in  its 
original  shape  has  been  made  to  do  duty  in  this  way,  and  has 
been  so  shorn  of  all  its  attractiveness  and  interest. 

Among  these  moralizations  may  be  mentioned  The  Dialogues 
of  Creatures  Moralissid ;  Tye  thy  mare  torn  boy,  ty  thy  mare,  by 
W.  Kethe  (or  Keith) ;  and  O,  sweet  Oliver,  amended  by  the 
Scriptures,  by  an  anonymous  hand.  But  the  list  of  these  reli 
gious  parodies,  so  to  say,  might  be  readily  swollen  to  a  large 
compass. 

Stans  Puer  ad  Mensam. 

This  is  a  different  production  from  the  piece  of  the  same  name 
attached  to  the  editions  of  Rhodes's  Boke  of  Nurture;  but  the 
latter  was  under  obligations  to  the  elder  tract.  It  was  Mr. 
Douce's  opinion  that  Rhodes  founded  his  Stans  Puer  ad  Mensam 
on  Lydgate,  and  also,  in  part,  on  a  performance  with  a  similar 
title,  supposed  to  be  the  work  of  John  Russell,  extant  in  Harl. 
MS.  4011. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  this  piece  is  printed  very  carelessly 
in  the  Reliquiae  Antiques,  unless  we  suppose  the  Jesus  College 
MS.  to  be  a  very  bad  one,  which  the  present  editor,  not  having 
had  an  opportunity  of  examining  it,  cannot  pretend  to  deter 
mine.  Other  copies  of  it  are  in  MS.  Ashmole  59,  art.  59 ;  Ibid. 
61,  art.  7  ;  and  in  Cotton  MS.  Calig.  A.  n.  f.  13.  But  the  two 
last  are  of  a  different  translation. 

Introduction,  p.  23.  Contenance  de  la  Table.  For"  1816,  4to," 
read  "  1816,  12mo." 

Line  67.  For  gynne  warre  read  warre  gynne.  The  words  were 
wrongly  transposed. 

Line  93,  et  seq.  In  Caxton's  edition  [known  to  me  only  from 
Mr.  Blade's  Life  and  Typog.  of  W.  Caxton,  ii.  49],  the  last 
stanza  varies ;  it  runs  as  follows : — 

"  Goo  litill  bylle  bareyn  of  eloquence 
Pray  yong  children  that  the  shal  see  or  rede 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES.  367 

Though  thou  be  not  compendious  of  sentence 
Of  thi  clawses  for  to  take  hede 
Whiche  to  alle  vertue  shal  thy  yougth  lede 
Of  the  wrytyng  though  ther  be  no  date 
If  ought  de  amys  put  the  faute  in  lidgate 
Explicit." 

Debate  and  Stryfe  betwene  Somer  and  Wynter. 

The  editor  desires  it  to  be  understood  that  his  text  is  not 
taken  from  the  reprint  of  I860,  but  from  the  original  black- 
letter  tract  in  the  British  Museum,  which  he  has  collated  in 
proof,  and  reproduced  here  line  for  line  and  word  for  word. 

Line  58.  In  a  grene  herler.  A  curious  illustration  of  this 
passage  occurs  in  A  C.  Mery  Talys,  Nos.  2  and  62.  See  Old 
English  Jest-Books,  i.  13,  89. 

Tale  of  the  Basyn. 

Line  18.  As  I  have  been  tolde.  Air.  Wright  left  this  unsup- 
plied ;  but  it  is  necessary  to  the  completion  of  the  stanza. 

Frere  and  the  Boye. 

Introduction.  Next  to  the  history  of  Tom  Thumb,  the  Frere 
and  the  Boye  is,  perhaps,  the  most  popular  piece  in  the  present 
collection.  With  changes  of  form  only,  it  has  found  its  way  into 
almost  every  literature  and  language  of  the  old  world,  and  no 
story  could  be  a  greater  favourite  than  the  Frere  and  the  Boye, 
in  its  various  shupes,  has  been  with  the  writers  of  our  own  and 
other  countries.  The  proof  lies  in  the  abundant  allusions  to  it; 
and  in  the  sixteenth  century  its  popularity  was,  no  doubt,  ex 
ceeding.  Indeed,  it  is  to  be  regarded  as  one  of  those  anti- 
monastic  performances  which  enjoyed  a  wide  circulation  during 
and  after  the  Reformation ;  and  it  was  probably  one  of  the  later 
productions  of  the  press  of  Wynkyn  de  Worde,  who  continued 
to  print  till  1534,  or  rather  till  the  beginning  of  1535. 

Herr  Carl  Engel  informs  the  editor  that  he  has  traced  the 
Frere  and  the  Boye  in  the  literatures  of  Wallachia  and  Albania. 

Line  300.     Hey  go  bet. 

"  And  than  came  haltyng  Jone, 
And  brought  a  gamboue 
Of  bakon  that  was  resty : 
But,  Lorde,  as  she  was  testy, 
Angry  as  a  waspy ! 
She  began  to  yaue  and  gaspy, 


368  ADDITIONAL  NOTES. 

And  bad  Elynour  go  bet, 

And  fyll  in  good  met ; 

It  was  dere  that  was  farre  fet — " 

Skelton's  Elynour  Humming. 

Turnament  of  Tottenham. 

The  edition  of  1631,  4to,  being  a  scarce  book,  and  the 
Preface  being  curious,  the  latter  is  here  subjoined: — 

To  THE  COURTEOUS  READER. 

That  which  here  I  offer  to  thy  view,  gentle  Reader,  is  an 
ancient  poem,  intituled  as  thou  seest  by  the  Author,  The  Tur 
nament  of  Tottenham  :  Which  as  hee,  after  the  manner  of  Poets, 
relateth  it,  seemeth  to  haue  bene  but  a  merriment  or  sport : 
But  was  as  I  haue  declared  in  the  title,  a  thing  really  performed, 
and  done  in  sober  sadnes.  Ancient  I  call  it,  although  I  cannot 
say  how  ancient,  for  many  reasons :  First  because  the  Manu 
script  out  of  which  I  transcribed  it  was  such :  Secondly  for 
that  the  language  argueth  no  lesse.  For  many,  not  onely 
words,  but  phrases,  are  so  obsolete  and  outworne,  that  few, 
except  such  as  are  well  versed  in  the  writings  of  the  Auncients, 
may  easily  vnderstand  them.  Thirdly  the  proper  names  of 
men  and  women,  are  so  deformed  by  nicknaming,  that  it  is 
hard  to  say  how  they  are  truly  to  be  called.  Lastly  when  it  is 
here  sayd,  That  the  brid  was  won  by  Turnament  or  lusting, 
after  a  warlike  maner,  by  fight  vpon  horse  backe.  And  that 
Master  Cambden  relateth,  this  manner  of  disport  or  warlike 
exercise,  brought  in  by  King  Steeuen,  about  the  yeare  of  our 
Lord,  1135,  was  afterward,  for  the  much  effusion  of  blood,  oft 
committed  by  meanes  thereof,  by  many  edicts  of  the  Church 
forbidden,  and  at  last  vtterly  put  downe  by  Edward  the  third, 
I  do  verily  beleeue,  that  this  Turnament  was  acted  before  this 
proclamation  of  King  Edward.  For  how  durst  any  to  attempt 
to  do  that,  although  in  sport,  which  was  so  straightly  forbidden, 
both  by  the  ciuill  &  Eclesiasticall  power?  For  although  they 
fought  not  with  lances,  yet  as  our  author  sayth,  It  was  no 
childrens  game.  And  what  would  haue  become  of  him,  thinke 
you,  which  should  haue  slayne  another  in  this  manner  of 
ieasting  ?  Would  hee  not,  trow  you,  haue  bene  hang'd  for  it  in 
earnest?  yea  and  haue  bene  buried  likeadogge?  Amongst 
sundry  other  treatises  in  this  copy,  there  is  a  story  of  Robin 
Hood,  &  little  lohn '  which  seemeth  to  be  done  by  the  same 

1  The  MS.  is  now  in  the  public  library  at  Cambridge,  and 
the  story  of  Robin  Hood  §•  Little  John  here  mentioned  has  been 
printed  by  Hartshorne  and  Gutch.  It  bears  the  title  of  A  Tale 
of  Robin  Hood. 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES.  369 

Author.  Yet  I  will  not  say  that  this  poem  was  written  then,  or 
nere  vnto  those  times.  For  these  outlawea,  as  M.  Stow  writeth, 
liued  in  the  beginning  of  the  raigne  of  King  Richard  the  first, 
sirnamed  Ceur  de  lyon.  That  is  about  the  yeare  of  our  Lord 
God  1189.  It  is  now  seauen  or  eight  yeares  since  I  came  first 
to  the  sight  of  the  copy,  and  that  by  the  meanes  of  the  worthy 
and  my  much  honoured  good  friend,  M.  Ge.  Withers :  Of  whom 
also,  now  at  length  I  haue  obtained  the  vse  of  the  same.  And 
because  the  verse  was  then  by  him,  a  man  of  so  exquisite 
Judgment,  in  this  kinde  of  learning,  much  commended:  All 
also  for  that  the  thing  it  selfe  doth  concerne  none  more  then 
my  selfe,  and  others  the  inhabitants  of  Tottenham,  I  thought  it 
worth  the  while,  especially  at  idle  times,  to  transcribe  it,  and 
for  the  honour  of  the  place,  to  make  it  publicke. 

"  The  Author  hath  not  any  where  through  the  whole  booke,  as 
farre  as  I  remember,  subscribed  his  name,  to  any  treatise,  more 
then  to  one,  where  I  finde  it  thus,  Explicit  Passio  Domini  nostri, 
lesu  Christi,  quod  Dominus  Gilbertus  Pylkynjton :  Now  because 
the  character  or  phrase  is  in  all  the  same,  I  haue  no  reason  but 
to  thinke  they  be  all  workes  of  the  same  Author." 

Line  7.  Tyrry.  It  may  be  worth  observing,  that  Syr  Terry 
is  one  of  the  heroes  in  the  Jeaste  of  Sir  Gawayne,  and  the 
author  of  the  present  production  may  have  had  him  in  his 
mind,  when  he  christened  his  burlesque  hero. 

"  Syr  Terry  sayd,  therto  I  graunte ; 

Fare  well  now,  god  be  thy  warraunte " 

Jeast  of  Syr  Gawayne. 

Treatyse  of  a  Oalaunt. 

The  representation  of  a  Galaunt  found  here  was  pressed  into 
service  a  good  deal  about  the  same  time  for  various  purposes. 
It  is  a  portrait  of  Godfrey  de  Bouillon  in  the  History  of  the 
Knight  of  the  Swanne  ;  at  cap.  16  of  Borde's  Boke  of  Knowledge, 
it  stands  for  an  inhabitant  of  Bohemia ;  on  the  title  of  the 
Interlude  of  Jack  Jugler,  we  are  requested  to  believe  in  it  as  an 
accurate  portrait  of  Bonngrace ;  and  on  the  reverse  of  the  old 
play  of  Hyckescorner,  this  identical  cut  stands  for  Hicke  Scorner 
himself. 

A  Pore  Helpe. 

Introduction.  For  three  leaves  read  eight  leaves ;  the  tract  fills, 
in  fact,  an  octavo  sheet.  A  third  copy  of  A  Pore  Helpe  is  in 
the  Bodleian,  among  Bp.  Tanner's  books. 

VOL.  IV.  B  B 


370  ADDITIONAL  NOTES. 

VOLUME  THE  FOURTH. 
John  Bon  and  Mast  Person. 

Introduction.  The  subjoined  extract  seems  to  fix  with  some 
degree  of  precision  the  date  of  the  appearance  of  this  piece, 
while  it  supplies  a  curious  illustration  of  its  literary  history : — 
"  There  was  one  Luke,  a  physician  in  London,  who  wrote 
divers  books  against  the  Papists,  in  the  end  of  King  Henry's 
reign :  for  which  he  had  been  imprisoned  in  the  Fleet.  In  the 
first  year  of  King  Edward,  he  published  one  book  for  which  he 
was  heavily  cried  out  upon  by  the  Papists  to  Sir  John  Gresham 
the  Lord  Mayor.  It  was  a  dialogue  between  John  Bon  and 
Master  Parson.  Which  two  persons  were  brought  in,  reasoning 
together  of  the  natural  presence  in  the  Sacrament;  but  the 
author  had  concealed  himself.  It  was  writ  very  facetiously,  and 
sprinkled  with  wit,  severely  biting  now  and  then  at  the  Priests. 
The  book  took  much  at  the  Court,  and  the  courtiers  wore  it  in 
their  pockets.  But  the  Mayor  had  the  book  so  illy  represented 
unto  him,  that  he  was  very  angry,  and  sent'  for  Day  the  printer 
of  it,  intending  to  make  him  discover  the  author,  and  to  lay 
him  in  prison  for  printing  the  same.  Underhil  chanced  to 
come  in  at  this  time,  to  desire  the  aid  of  the  Mayor  to  take 
Allen  before  spoken  of,  who  reported  the  King's  death.  The 
Mayor  made  Underhil  dine  with  him,  and  speaking  to  him  at 
dinner  concerning  this  book,  the  maker  whereof,  he  told  him,  he 
intended  to  search  for,  that  so,  as  it  seems,  Underhil  might 
declare  at  Court  the  diligence  of  the  Mayor  in  his  office,  he 
presently  replied  to  him,  that  that  book  was  a  good  book, 
adding,  that  he  had  himself  one  of  them  about  him,  and  that 
there  were  many  of  them  in  the  Court.  With  that  the  Mayor 
desired  to  see  it,  and  took  it  and  read  a  little,  and  laughed 
thereat,  as  it  was  both  pithy  and  merry.  And  by  this  season 
able  interposition  of  Underhil,  John  Day  the  printer,  sitting  at 
a  side-board,  after  dinner,  was  bidden  to  go  home,  who  had  else 
gone  to  prison." — Strype's  Eccl.  Mem.  ii.  pt.  i.  p.  181. 

John  Bon  and  Mast  Person,  therefore,  in  all  probability, 
came  from  Day's  press  between  January  1 547,  and  January 
1548. 

The  Eye  Way  to  the  Spijttel  Ecus. 

Introduction.  I  must  retract  what  I  observed  respecting 
R.  Copland's  press,  as  there  is  no  doubt,  that,  from  the  time  of 
W.  de  Worde's  death  at  the  end  of  the  year  1534,  to  his  own, 
which  can  only  be  assigned  by  conjecture  to  1548,  this  intelli- 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES.  371 

gent  and  industrious  man  had  a  press  of  his  own,  and  em 
ployed  independent  devices. 

Misled  by  Ritson,  I  have  spoken  of  Walter's  Spectacle  of 
Lovers,  and  of  his  Lytell  contrauers  dyalogue,  &c.  as  two  works, 
whereas  they  are,  of  course,  one  and  the  same. 

To  the  list  of  works  with  which  he  connected  his  name,  the 
following  have  to  be  added:—!.  The  Introductory  to  write,  by 
Alex.  Barclay,  printed  by  R.  C.  1521,  folio.  On  the  last  leaf 
occurs :  "  Here  foloweth  the  maner  of  dauncynge  of  base 
dauces  after  the  vse  of  fraunce  and  other  places  translated  out 
of  freuche  into  Englysshe  by  Robert  coplande."  2.  The 
Secret  of  Secrets  of  Aristotyle,  translated  out  of  French,  and 
emprented  by  R.  C.  1528. 4to,  with  the  translator  [R.  Copland's] 
Envoy,  in  verse.  3.  The  Maner  to  Hue  well,  &c,  Printed  by  R. 
C.  1540, 4to,  and  translated,  probably  by  himself,  out  of  French. 
See  Dibden,  iii.  120-4.  The  Art  of  Memorye,  translated  out  of 
French  into  English  by  Rob.  Copland  .  Lond.  by  W.  Myd- 
dylton.  12mo. 

In  MS.  Ashmole,  37,  art.  300,  are  some  extracts  from  the 
present  poem  in  Ashmole's  handwriting. 

Proude  Wyues  Pater  noster. 

The  variations  between  the  two  editions  are  very  material, 
but  it  may  be  difficult  to  determine,  quite  satisfactorily,  which 
was  the  prior  one.  Probably  it  was  the  impression  by  King 
with  a  date ;  the  anonymous  author  may  have  discovered  how 
corrupt  the  text  was,  as  it  was  there  presented,  and  have  intro 
duced  the  improvements,  both  literal  and  literary,  which  we 
find  in  the  undated  edition,  before  the  tract  was  put  into  the 
hands  of  King  again  for  reprinting.  In  Selden's  copy  of  the  un 
dated  issue,  not  only  the  language  is  superior,  but  the  orthogra 
phy  is  less  antiquated.  The  changes  introduced  certainly  read 
like  an  author's  own  corrections.  The  Proude  Wyues  Pater 
noster  was  licenced  to  King,  Juue  10,  1560 ;  therefore,  it  is  pro 
bable,  that  both  the  extant  impressions  made  their  appearance 
between  that  time  and  the  end  of  the  year,  i.e.  March,  1560-1. 

The  right-hand  figure  on  the  old  title-page  is  copied  appa 
rently  from  one  which  occurs  at  the  head  of  cap.  16  of  Borde's 
Boke  of  Knowledge. 

Gossan's  Pleasant  Quippes. 

Line  107.     Can  you  hit  it? 

It  is  alluded  to  as  a  dance  tune  in  Arthur  of  Bradley  :— 

"  Then  Miles  in  his  motley  breeches, 
And  he  the  piper  beseeches, 


372  ADDITIONAL  NOTES. 

To  play  him  Haw'thorn  buds, 

That  he  and  his  wench  might  trudge  • 

But  Lawrence  liked  not  that. 

No  more  did  lusty  Kate : 

For  she  cry'd,  Canst  thou  not  hit  it  ? 

To  see  how  fine  Thomas  can  trip  it." 

Ritson's  Robin  Hood,  ii.  213. 

Mr.  Chappell,  in  his  Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time,  p. 
239,  notices  a  tune  under  the  title  of  "  Can  you  not  hit  it,  my 
good  man  ?  " 

The  Pride  and  Abuse  of  Women. 

Line  216.  Beware  of  bad  I  wist.  Meaning,  of  course, 
beware  of  after-regrets.  This  is  the  precise  title  of  one  of  the 
anonymous  poems  in  the  Paradyse  of  daynty  deuises,  and  is  the 
fifth  Poem  in  the  edition  of  1578.  It  is  also  the  head-line  of 
A  Warnyng  for  England,  1555,  12mo,  and  no  doubt,  when 
Bansley  wrote,  was  a  well-understood  and  constantly-cited 
proverbial  expression. 


THE  END. 


CUISWICK  PRESS: — PRINTED  BY  WHITTINGHAM  AND  WILKINS, 

TOOKS  COURT,  CHANCERY  LANE. 


PR      Hazlitt,  William  Carew 
120^       Remains  of  the  early 
H38     popular  poetry  of  England 


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